To The Edge And Back
by Peta2
Summary: Losing a child can take a mother to the very edge. Luckily for Carol, Daryl Dixon is right there to help her fight her way back. Nothing is ever straightforward now that the dead walk the earth, so how will they cope when those they'd thought lost forever, suddenly return?
1. Chapter 1

A/N…Firstly, it must be said that I do not own these characters, and get no profit from writing about them. I must thank Susan and Spikeslovebite for being such wonderful betas and friends, but I especially want to dedicate this fic to Tam (Spikeslovebite), because without you I might never have come back to writing fanfiction at all. You know how important you are to me and I hope that we will always be friends and there for each other whenever we can.

It has been a long time since I've wanted to lose myself in fanfiction. Discovering this show has reminded me how much I loved to write, and how much I love to love an unlikely love story. The way Daryl looks at Carol seems destined for love—whether either of them suspect it or not. So, how could I help myself when the urge to write becomes overwhelming? I hope you can enjoy this—two more chapters are written so far so I think this might go on for a while. If you do enjoy, please take the time to let me know. Encouragement is the greatest thing in helping someone to finish a fic!

**You Can't See The Forest For The Trees**

From the minute she pulled that red dress from some poor unfortunate's luggage, Carol knew she was going to have to pay for it. She'd coveted something Ed had always told her she didn't deserve—something beautiful—and she'd coveted it from someone who had died a horrible, frightening death. If she didn't pay for it, she'd be very surprised. Carefully returning the dress to the back of the car, Carol crossed her fingers and hoped it would reverse the damage. She'd been selfish picking it up in the first place. They needed water, medical supplies, food and warm clothing, blankets and weapons—not frivolous red dresses that she had nowhere to wear it to, and no one to wear it _for._

Sticking close to Lori had been a conscious decision, considering the only other mother amongst them to now be her friend. Knowing that if trouble came a calling Rick would make a beeline for his wife and son to protect them didn't hurt her decision, either. By default, she and Sophia would get the heads up they'd need to try and stay alive. She couldn't think of anyone better to align herself with, especially as Officer Grimes had allowed them passage in his car. Had promised Sophia to take them to the Grand Canyon should the world ever right itself enough for them to go. If she thought selfishly about it, the only other of them she thought might aid their safety was the surviving Dixon brother, only he was a frightening prospect and not someone she'd normally talk to, let alone seek out for protection. No, she'd made the right choice, she decided, so turned back to the cars to see if any of them held anything at all that might be useful to the group.

Carl and Sophia had wandered a little ways off, still in their mothers' lines of sight but not within arm's reach. She thought once more on that red dress she'd hugged against her body and suddenly felt the need to have Sophia come back to her side. Then, as if she'd known it would all along, disaster struck. Carol tamped down a scream as Rick barrelled through, fear making his eyes glisten as he whispered urgently at them to get down, to hide under the cars. The kids had heard and quickly scampered under the vehicles nearest them, but it was all Carol could do to not bite Lori's hand that suddenly covered her mouth and scream with fear for her child.

She was grateful for Lori's level-headed thinking, truly she was, but Carol wanted so much to tear from under the car and protect her daughter, even though she knew she'd be torn apart in seconds and condemn them all to death if she didn't remain as still as she could—if she didn't at least _try_ to control her fear.

A swarm of dead stumbled slowly past their hiding spots, moaning and groaning with hunger and aimlessness. They moved in pack formation, missing the cars in their path and barely rolling their bodies along with the slack feet that took their weight, but Carol knew it would only take one small whimper, one sniff of fresh blood to bring a hundred ravenous walkers down on them all. Her body shook with terror, her eyes blurred with angry, desperate tears, and she barely drew breath as they all waited for the herd to pass by. She could hardly believe it possible that they could remain safe…alive. So many of those…things…and not one of them seemed to stumble to a stop, show any curiosity about what might be hiding from their hungry jaws. For once Carol thought maybe it wasn't so much that they sensed life when it existed, but rather felt the pull towards movement and sound as a simple testament to something…anything…that wasn't another one of _them._

It was that damned red dress, she thought, shaking. With an immediate sense of doom, Carol knew all of this was her fault. Not the villain that released the virus and turned the world to shit, not Ed for dying and leaving them at the mercy of a group of strangers, and not any one of these good people that were helping her and her little girl to stay alive. No one was responsible for this hell that rained down upon them but her. For a one minute craving for something pretty. For daring to wonder how she'd look in a red dress when they were desperate for food and water and weapons to protect themselves with.

Eventually the groaning sounds of the walking dead started to ebb and Carol began to pray hard that they were safe. It was too soon to leave the safety of the stranded undercarriage hiding places they'd scrambled beneath, fearing stragglers might still be in the area—might still be close enough to consume them in one terrifying lunge. But Sophia didn't know that. Carol watched in horror as Sophia wriggled, made the smallest whimper and without warning a walker dived under the car, reaching its decaying arm out desperately to try and snag her daughter for its next meal. Sofia did what any child would do, she screamed and wriggled frantically in the opposite direction until she was out from under the car and running down the embankment, away from the road, away from _them, _with two walkers hot on her heels.

No longer caring how many more might still be lingering, Carol was out from under the car she shared with Lori, the other woman no match for her panic as she fought for freedom. Before she'd opened her mouth to scream, before she could run after Sofia, Rick was there, jumping the guard rail and running as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Oh God, he has no weapon," Lori said, her own fear now betrayed to the group. "He won't use his gun in case that herd turns and heads straight back for us."

The group stood there helplessly, eyes glued to the trees where first Sophia and then Rick had disappeared, Carol wringing her hands in terror and moaning softly as if her heart was being ripped slowly from her chest.

"What's goin' on?" Daryl hitched up T-Dog, dragged the bleeding man to the gathering on the edge of the road and then dumped him to the side as Dale ran to catch him. "Why's everyone standin' around like walker chow?"

Carol sobbed, flinging herself forward and made to head over the guard rail in pursuit when Glen and Shane held her back.

"There's two walkers after Sophia," Lori enlightened him, and Daryl growled in frustration. "Rick's gone after them but he only has his gun."

With all the appearances of being furious, he pushed them all aside, gave Shane a filthy look, and tore out after them. "Two walkers and y'all jus' standin' around like pussies? Good Lord, how will any of us survive?" And he was gone, disappearing amongst the trees just like Rick and Sophia before him.

Following their tracks was laughably easy. Darryl paused, seeing the split from the walkers following Sophia, and Rick's attempt to move forward to cut them off. A sudden shout and he heard Rick call for them to follow him, and, as one far more observant than others had ever given him credit for, Daryl left him to it, knowing the former deputy had more balls in his little toe than most of the others left at the highway had dangling between their legs, and would easily take those two walkers out. His job, then, was to intersect with Sophia and bring her back, unharmed, to her mamma's shaky arms.

He stepped on with confidence, a man bred in the wild could find a missing girl without any trouble at all—on a good day he'd already be celebrating. Today was not a good day, Daryl Dixon discovered, his feet too slow as he saw the little girl explode from the trees and run straight into another walker that seemed to appear from nowhere. Before Daryl could shout or point his crossbow in the right direction, half of Sophia's shoulder was missing, the child screaming in agony and terror. His arrow split through the walker's skull and lodged through its eye socket, brain matter coating the weapon as it stopped right before Sophia's face.

With a sense of unreality, Daryl ran, skidding on his knees toward the girl to sweep her up in his arms while simultaneously trying to hold the torn flesh of her neck and shoulder together. Blood soaked through his fingers, dripping down his arm as he struggled to calm her, shushing her pained cries lest her voice carried and brought further walkers to their path. His body settled into shock as he held the girl in his arms, guilt flooding through him making his muscles feel strangely weak. Fighting the urge to throw up, or throw the girl from his body, he stood, holding her tighter so he could carry her back to the road— back to the group. Back to her mother.

"Sweet Jesus," he swore, vision blurring a little as he stumbled through the undergrowth. What had he said and done when the others had been bit? Kill 'em all, before they could rise up and turn on them. He'd wanted to put a bullet through that Amy's head, not for one minute expecting her sister to have what it took to put something like that out of its misery. And that other guy, Jim, with the obscenely clean bite on his belly. Daryl would sooner have put a bullet in his brain than watch the miserable development that followed. But this…Sophia was just a child. She was their next generation and the only thing her mother had left in the world. He'd not seen that much of Carol Peletier before, only really noticing her as she hacked her good for nothin' husband to pieces. He'd viewed her as weak, a woman beat down by her abusive life with only her daughter to get her through it. Daryl knew the type. Hell, his own mother was the same until she'd set herself ablaze and gave herself the freedom she'd always wanted. He'd hoped Carol was more than that, needed her to be for the good of them all, for their _survival _of this shitty life that God had seen fit to bestow on them, but delivering the death sentence of her daughter to her, he figured, was probably not the way to prove it.

Before he'd taken two steps toward the road, Rick came thundering through the trees, a large rock in his hand and walker blood splattered against his face. He halted abruptly at the sight of Daryl and a whimpering Sophia in his arms, the bite clear for anyone to see, and he sunk to his knees.

"No," he breathed in disbelief, his failure weighing him down just as surely as Daryl figured his own did. His legs felt weak and his brain was actually telling him he couldn't take this girl back to the others. He knew he had no choice, but Daryl wanted to run in the opposite direction. Hell, he'd never had a kid of his own and he'd done all he could to ignore the brats in their camp, but this one, he'd been mean to her the night before, telling her mother to shut her up before she brought walkers down on them all. He'd been a mean ass fucker to her and now he cradled her in his arms, her head dropping to his shoulder like he was her father, and she cried furiously into his shirt.

Tears ticked his own eyes and Daryl looked at Rick for guidance. He didn't know what to do, just wanted to get back on Merle's bike and escape this whole sorry mess as fast as it would allow. Rick's devastated gaze was the proof that he'd not be making that choice, and so gathering up his emotion and shoving it as far back as he could, Daryl straightened his spine and flicked his head toward the road.

"Best you go first. Give 'em some warnin' that we're comin'."

Rick nodded once, regained his feet in a shaky fashion, and slowly walked back to the road. Daryl followed along, crossbow slung over one shoulder, a little girl crying into the other, and a hardness in his eyes that no one in this group was likely to have ever seen before.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I want to thank everyone so much for giving this little fic a chance. I really appreciate those that let me know what they thought—it's a huge confidence boost when I've been out of the fanfic game for so long. Again I want to thank my betas, Susan and Tam, without whose enthusiasm I might still be back wondering if maybe I shouldn't give this fandom a go ;)

Part 2

Confess, and ye shall be saved….

The look of accusation she shot at Rick chilled Daryl to the bone. He couldn't deny it to himself—this shouldn't've happened. Hell, he'd been right there, barely twenty yards from the walker, and yet he'd missed it because he was too busy listening out for Rick and scanning the trees for the girl. Still he'd been shocked when she'd ripped through the trees into the opening, and straight into the body of one of those filthy things, its instinct to latch itself to her flesh before any of them could know what was happening. It was on his head, 'cause he should've seen it. Should've seen it and taken it out with one of his arrows before it ever laid cloudy eyes on Sophia.

Carol's cries were tortured—he'd heard them before he carried Sophia up the incline to the road, and nearly slid back down on his ass as Carol came at him, flinging herself at her daughter with all of her weight. His anger at the injustice of it all swelled wildly out of his control and he almost tossed Sophia to her, regaining his balance as he swung his crossbow back out front of his body and threw surly orders at those just standing by.

"Pack it up, people. We gotta get off the road now."

Rick's kid was howling as he held his snotty face against his mother's hip, and Daryl's lip curled. Tears fell upon almost all of their cheeks as they saw a wounded woman try to soothe her daughter, though Daryl could see Sophia understood her fate. The broken spirit of them all left them vulnerable, and if there was one thing Daryl wasn't going to stand for right the fuck now, it was being dinner for another herd should it pass through.

"Not fuckin' kiddin'. Move your asses and let's get somewhere else so we can sort this shit out."

Rick turned red eyes on him, brushing Shane aside as he took a step closer to Daryl—not confrontational but in this moment seemingly unable to lead. "Where?" was all he said and Daryl knew the man was almost spent emotionally. Seeing tragedies involving kids could do that to a man. To a good man, at least.

"Back up the road, think I saw signs to a church." He could barely hear himself think against Carol and Sophia's cries. A church sounded like a peaceful place for him to try and get his shit back together. Even if JC wasn't his favourite to confess all to.

He could see Shane wanted to argue, but Daryl ignored him, like so many other cops in his past. He could see this one was a hot head that didn't like taking orders from a dumb as fuck redneck like him, and this time Daryl was burning too high to care less. His anger was ready to explode and he knew if just one of them stopped to question him, they were going to end up on their ass in the dirt. He needed to get away from Sophia and her ruined neck before he did something stupid, like shed his own useless tears.

Without looking back, he stomped to his bike, swung his leg over and kicked the starter. The bike lurched forward immediately and he was off, going way too fast initially to try and offset the sting of tears in his eyes with the bite of the wind in his face. The rest followed slower, so that by the time they pulled in to the Church he'd already cleared it of the three walkers that had been left forgotten in prayer to a God that had no answers for them. He was tossing the female down the steps as Shane walked up, carrying Sophia with a look of mixed horror and distaste, but determination nonetheless. Sophia squealed at the walker bodies, burying her head against Shane's uniform shirt and Daryl almost snarled. He should have been carrying her up the stairs while Shane had swept the place for any further surprises, but his guilt and anger wouldn't let him stop for one minute to think. Wouldn't let him stop in case the accusations Carol had aimed at Rick were there in her eyes for him, too. She stood right behind Shane, her hand gripped in one of Sophia's. A quick look and Daryl saw he wouldn't be killed in her gaze this minute, at least. She stared at the ground, her hand clinging to her little girl but her eyes staring hard at the steps as she ascended them. Daryl swallowed hard at how concentrated she was on her breathing, trying to keep calm and not collapse in hysteria.

The rest slowly caught up and Daryl stepped awkwardly aside, letting them through to the sanctity of the church. Without being told, they all seemed to jump into action, T-Dog and Glenn heading through to the back to check for surprises or anything else they could actually use. Andrea shot him a look and an understanding yet sad smile before heading after them, returning a short while later with her arms laden with ministerial robes that she took to Carol and Shane.

"Thought these might be useful. We can make a bed for Sophia so she can at least be…comfortable." Her voice cracked at the last and she cleared her throat, putting the robes down on a pew before collapsing beside them. She sat and stared at Jesus as he cried bloody tears on the cross, then everyone in the room followed suit, like good ole' JC could guide them any better than he had already.

Lori stepped in then, guiding Shane and Andrea to set the little girl up further near the front entrance, cushioning a pew so she'd be able to lie down as her fever progressed but where they could leave quickly if they needed to. Carl tagged along, his hand scrubbing at his eyes every time the water at them threatened to over-flow. Daryl was surprised to see Carol sit steadfast near the alter, her frantic gaze glued to the figure on the cross, her eyes leaking like the blood that had been suspended in time on JC's tortured body. Unable to bear witness to her pain, Daryl turned heal and stomped to the back of the church and out the back door that T-Dog was now guarding from the outside.

He strode angrily to the edge of the trees, wanting to drop his crossbow and his knife and run into the woods without a care in the world—wanted to run and forget how very bad this day had become. His insides twisted violently as he stared into nothing, seeing that little girl as she ran straight into the arms of the kiss of death. His body shook as he admitted his failure and cursed himself for a fool. He should just march back in there and demand they take care of the problem with all the lack of compassion he'd shown at their earlier camp. A vision of watching Carol skewer her husband's head repetitively on the end of his pick axe had Daryl wincing. She could do it to her wife-beating shit of a husband, but there was no one in there expecting her to be able to stomach violence against her child.

Neither could he. Kids were different. _This_ kid was different, because her death was on his head. No one else's. He'd been over-cocky, condemning those that had stayed behind while he raced in to be a hero he'd never proclaimed to be. And a hero he wasn't. At least, not this day.

Feeling a little weak at the knees, Daryl moved forward and disappeared a short ways into the woods, leaning heavily against a tree. He kept his eyes open for threats, but his bow hung toward the ground as he gave himself this moment. He had no idea why this was happening—how they'd fought to get out of the CDC only to lose one so soon after. He'd never believed in fairness in this world—if he had he'd have been born anything but a Dixon. But that little girl in there—and her mother—didn't deserve this.

Maybe it was for the best, thought Daryl belatedly. This was no world for kids. Shit, if his own brother couldn't make it, what chance did a kid like Sophia have? Her mother had sheltered her from her own father, from what Daryl had been able to see. The kid was soft. It was better this way—better for all of them.

And at that selfish thought, Daryl smacked the back of his head against his tree then pushed forward. He'd barely taken a step back toward the church when he heard the scream.

"Sophia!"

And once again he took off running.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: I want to thank you those who have reviewed so far. You've made my day!

Part 3

Hopin', and prayin' and anythin' but zen…

Lori sat in the pew behind Carol, hesitantly settling in after leaving Sophia snuggled up within the Minister's robes and Carl sitting watch with her, both talking low and fearfully. She felt awkward watching Carol stare at the figure of a suffering Jesus on his cross, but relieved as well. She knew it was selfish, but Lori felt enormous relief that it wasn't her sitting and staring at that cross, crying for God to save her child. Carl was safe—unmutilated—and for that she was eternally grateful. The moment of relief was gone, however, the second she looked again at Carol and saw how the other woman was suffering. Lori went cold, berating herself for thinking only of Carl when this woman that had been travelling with her was on the edge of losing it all. She shrank back against her seat, her fingers twisting together in her lap as Carol spoke quietly to a God she hadn't yet relinquished. One that Lori suspected never existed in the first place.

"Father, forgive me," Carol began, voice soft but with tears clogging her throat. "I don't deserve your mercy. I prayed for safe passage from Atlanta and You provided. I prayed for Ed to be punished for laying his hands on me and for looking at his own daughter with whatever sickness was growing in his soul."

Oh God, Lori thought. They'd all known Ed had a mean temper and a meaner fist, but it never occurred to her that he was a sick and twisted bastard. That he was contemplating his daughter in a manner not fit for a father to do so. Her heart broke for Carol and Sofia, suddenly realising how lucky she was with Rick and that she didn't deserve even one ounce of his love and devotion.

"I prayed You'd put a stop to it. Give me a chance to raise her right, help her not make my mistakes. She's so fearful. She's so young in her way. She hasn't had a chance." Lori resisted the urge to bend forward and place a comforting hand on Carol's shoulder. Her words were so personal and private that she suddenly felt wrong for being so close at all.

"Praying for Ed's death was a sin. Please, don't let this be my punishment. Let her be safe, alive and safe. Please, Lord, punish me however you want, but show mercy on her."

When she'd finished imploring God to bestow on her a miracle, Carol fell back against Lori, her eyes still fixed on the figure of a tortured and dying Jesus and Lori hugged her close. There was no way this could end well. Carol had lost her daughter the second that walker had bitten a chunk out of her shoulder; they were only taking refuge for now while they waited for the inevitable to take place. She had no clue what they would do then. Shooting the others in the head in Atlanta had been different. They may have shared nights together at camp, but when it came down to it they were still strangers. Just people they were sharing the end of days with, and adults at that. The most difficult to watch had been Amy, but even then she was a young woman. Sophia was a child, and as her breath caught in her throat, Lori suddenly felt exactly what the other woman was going through. How were they going to execute a child? One of their own—and while Carol watched the slaughter of her baby. She was grateful, at least, that Daryl hadn't returned to the Interstate demanding they put her down before she even died. That had been a surprise. His whole behaviour was a surprise, if she thought about it. He'd shown the other mother mercy and consideration in getting them to this place, and Lori marvelled at it. Daryl Dixon was a whole lot more complicated than she'd ever thought possible from her earlier impressions.

Carol shuddered in her arms, taking several deep breaths and rubbing grief from her face. She pushed herself to her shaky feet, smiled sadly at Lori then turned to take her rightful place at her daughter's side. Within five steps she came to the tangle of robes, stained with blood but containing no Sophia. Carl was a few steps away, a guilty look on his face. He ducked his head and rushed to the front of the church, watching quietly as Carol made her way to the makeshift bed, picked up the bloodied white robes as if she was in a trance. Some sort of realisation kicked in, then , and her frantic eyes searched the immediate confines of the church. No little girl hid under the pews or behind the statue, no Sophia perched at the altar, waiting for her. Sophia was gone and panic sank into her heart for the second time.

Not even noticing Carl, Carol ran to the front entrance, flinging the door open and running into the rapidly darkening day. Her terrified gaze swept across the cemetery and saw nothing but Shane talking to Andrea too far away. She almost fell down the stairs as she rushed to look around the side of the building, seeing nothing then running to the other side. She'd run around the whole place before she started screaming.

"Sophia."

Everyone burst into action, running to a terrified Carol whose eyes barely saw them as she kept tripping around them to locate her little girl. It was Daryl that charged between them, grabbing her by the arms and shaking her gently until she focused on him. He didn't say a word and her hand went to her mouth as she looked deep into his eyes, tears brimming and just waiting to fall.

"She's gone," she answered his unasked question in a broken whisper and he nodded at her as if he'd already guessed. He whipped his crossbow back into his hands and started stalking around, retracing Carol's own steps as he neared closer and closer to the woods. "Sophia," he called, grunting in irritation when there was no answer. Everyone stood around and watched, some from helplessness, others from shock and even more from pure stubbornness. The tick in his jaw betrayed how much Shane wasn't going to go down this road again and he stomped off through the cemetery to the line of the trees, turning slowly, raking his hand through his hair before he stomped back.

"The hell happened?" Daryl demanded from those crowding around, almost immediately recognising Carl's unwillingness to be seen. His hand shot out and he snagged hold of the boy's shirt, roughly dragging him out from where he was attempting to hide behind his mother. Carl visibly shook, not yet sure yet if Daryl was a good guy or bad, his eyes wide as he stared into blue eyes of pure fury.

"Stop man-handlin' my son," Lori demanded, stepping forward quick as a shot and trying to wrestle Carl away from him.

"Brat knows where Sophia is," Daryl growled, "an' he best be tellin' me where she is right now before walkers get to her and turnin' is least of her problems."

He regretted his choice of words the second they shot past his lips, his grasp loosening as Carol gasped and almost collapsed at their feet. Shane and Rick were there in a flash, lifting her up and taking her to the church steps. Then Rick was back, his calm demeanour settling Daryl's rage a little. The Officer of the Law crouched down to face his son, his hat dangling in his hands.

"Is Daryl right?" he asked, half hoping that Daryl was wrong.

The boy seemed to crumple in on himself, crying and throwing himself into his father's arms. "She was scared," he admitted. "We thought he'd," pointing a wavering finger in Daryl's direction, "want to put a bullet in her head like he wanted to with Amy and Jim."

As wrong as the boy was, Daryl couldn't deny the kid's concerns.

"Carried her here, didn' I?" he said, his voice gruff. "Didn' do it for my own health. Didn' take you for no dumabass, neither." Daryl turned on his heel and moved off, pausing three steps away to glance at the distressed mother and then back to Carl. "Which direction she head?"

Carl shook his head, lip wobbling—with belated fear for Sophia or guilt at getting caught— but then pointed back toward the trees, and Daryl stomped off. Felt like he was doing nothing but looking for one person in this group or another. First his brother, now a little girl. He may not be able to find Merle, but he was going to find Sophia, or die trying.

Shane loped toward him before he disappeared into the woods. "Hey, Man, what's the point? She's bit anyway."

Daryl turned, contemplated the original self-appointed king of their group and shook his head with a humourless chuckle. His eyes sought out Carol, found her sobbing on the church steps. "If it were your kid, would you really want it out there, nothin' more than walker bait?"

He wasn't going to wait around for Shane to get it. He somehow intuited that he was too complicated a man for Shane to work him out, and sometimes Daryl thought he was even too complicated for himself. All he knew was that he had to find that little girl, bring her back, if not safe then at least in one piece, for her mamma to say a proper goodbye to. He already knew she'd failed to do that yet, suspected that instead of sitting with her feverish daughter she was probably off praying to a deaf God. "Ain't nothin' that bastard can do to cure a walker bite," he grumbled in irritation. In frustration. 'Cause it should have been so easy to pluck Sophia out of the woods, safe and sound, and start their little caravan back up so they could move on. He didn't know if it was fate that had them being picked off one by one—or eight at a time—but he was truly sick of JC's wiseass humour.

Daryl searched until it got dark, and then he searched for another hour until he had to admit he'd found nothing. He couldn't even find a trace of her path through the woods, and it wasn't until he started the long trek back to their refuge for the night that he realised that little shit had lied to him. Sophia hadn't run back to the woods at all. Girl was terrified: sick, feverish and with the knowledge that in a few short hours she'd be a walker just like the asshole that bit her in the first place. No way was she going to just rush straight back into the woods.

He was going to squeeze the truth out of that kid the second he got back, then he was going to make him watch while he found Sophia, eyes clouded in death and starving for his flesh. If he could get away with it he was going to make him put her out of her misery, then make him apologise to the girl's mother for being such a selfish little shit in the first place.

When he got back, swinging his crossbow this way and that in case of unwanted surprises, he found Carol still sitting on the steps in the dark, her face buried in her hands and a blanket draped over her shoulders. She lifted her head when he purposefully stepped on a twig to let her know he was coming. She'd looked broken before, but finding him alone seemed to snap her clean in half.

"You didn't find her?" she asked in that soft voice that just compounded his guilt at how little he seemed to be able to do for her.

"I'm not givin' up," he told her defensively, feeling his guts twist at the truth of it. "I'll start again first light." She looked grateful, though it was hard for him to understand why. "You know she won't be Sophia no more, right?"

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "I know. But I can still say goodbye, before…" Her voice trailed off, but Daryl got where she was coming from.

"Yeah," he said, voice husky. "You will. Now, git inside. No good can come of sittin' out here."

She stood up, her legs a bit shaky, and without meaning to at all, Daryl held out his arm, his hand ghosting against her back as she turned and went back inside. He snatched it back before he made contact, and drew in his lips tight. Just like that, compassionate Daryl completely clammed up.

Angry as a grizzly with its paw in a trap, he stomped down the aisle and paused in front of the cross, his eyes burning into Jesus. "Hey J.C. You takin' requests?"


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Hello again! I'm a little bit embarrassed and kind of impressed at how this fandom is currently taking over my life, but I'm loving writing again so I figure it can't be all bad! I just want to thank you all for reviewing, making this fic a favourite or following. It's gratifying to know that there are people reading my work and some that are actually really enjoying it. I can't ever tell you how exciting it is to hear someone else's thoughts on what you've written and it absolutely spurs a person on with writing more. Sometimes it's a hard process to leave a review, but if this story touches you at all, please let me know. Sometimes what you have to say helps me think deeper about what I'm doing.

Many thanks as usual to my betas and cheering squad: Tami and Susan. I don't know where I'd be without either of them.

Part Four

Every Little Step leads me further away…

Carol had sat up all night, hoping Sophia would walk up those steps and throw herself into her mother's arms. Every time she heard a noise she'd startle to her feet, eyes darting from front entrance to back, only collapsing again when nothing came of it. Daryl would march through periodically, looking at her for all the world like his heart was breaking right along with hers, before giving a curt nod and almost running to the other end of the building—depending on which end he'd come from.

When he'd finished watch, he settled on the floor down the aisle, not far from where she was staring dry-eyed and unblinking at Jesus Christ. She didn't miss his eye roll, and on another day she might have smiled or teased him about it, but today she was as cold and numb as a woman could ever be. Thoughts swirled through her head at an alarming rate and Carol wondered how she wasn't so exhausted from flogging herself mentally that she'd collapsed in sleep.

She could hear Ed's voice in her head, blaming her, taunting her that the only thing she'd ever loved from her marriage with him was now as gone as everything else she'd ever clung to. She was worthless as a wife—she'd deserved his fist or his open hand every time she looked at him sideways. She didn't deserve anything nice, or precious, and finally God was showing her she didn't even deserve a daughter. And how she'd _dared _to pick up that beautiful dress and think about it settling against her curves when it was the very last thing on earth that she deserved.

Yes, evil thoughts in God's house, but ones Carol couldn't defend herself against.

She whimpered quietly, her face collapsing into her hands once again. The grief made it so much harder to bear. Knowing she'd never have Sophia back—not as the beautiful, breathing little girl that she was—was splitting Carol's heart in two. She didn't know how to take this into herself and recover. She just didn't know.

Eventually she became aware that Daryl Dixon sat beside her, his hands resting between his knees and his crossbow on one of God's chairs. It had no place in this little building, but then Carol wondered if any of them did. They'd all done things, thought things—shown questionable morality while on the run from dead hordes wanting to eat them. This was a place of refuge, but did God really want to protect people that were slowly losing themselves? Losing their humanity?

He said nothing to her and Carol realised he didn't know what to say, but wanted to offer her comfort anyway. Her lips wobbled through a smile before she turned in his direction and gently ordered him away.

"You should sleep," she said, then missed him as soon as he gave her that standard nod as he slipped back to his place on the floor.

First light seemed to take forever to come, but as soon as Daryl launched himself to his feet, Carol knew it had taken barely minutes. He'd had almost as little rest as she had and she felt guilty that because of her inability to keep her daughter safe, he was losing precious sleep. He didn't even look at her as he galvanised into action the rest of the men, all of them pouring out of the church to the front so they could decide on a plan of attack. She followed like one of the zombies that now attacked them at every turn. Rick and Dale seemed eager to agree with Daryl—they seemed to want to find her daughter, alive or dead. Shane, she could see, wasn't so on board with that, ready to give Sophia up as a lost cause and move on. In that split second, Carol hated him, and knew that he'd changed. She understood his reasoning—Sophia was bit and they all knew what that meant. Didn't mean she didn't deserve her final moments with her child. Didn't mean she couldn't say goodbye like Andrea had with Amy.

Andrea snuck up behind her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders and squeezed. Her smile was sad and Carol knew she understood—better than all of them. Her breath hitched in her chest and suddenly it hurt to breathe, Carol turning away from the group's men arguing quietly about what should be done next. She couldn't stand it, this standing around and waiting. Waiting for what? she wanted to shout at the top of her voice. Waiting for Hell on Earth to descend. Carol was pretty sure it had arrived and she was its bitter joke.

Giving a reassuring hug back to Andrea—one that felt fake and useless—Carol retreated back into the church, searching for a weapon. She found one of those lethal looking blades that Carl had found in one of the cars on the Interstate and she picked it up, testing its heaviness in her hand. The time for arguing was gone. If Shane didn't want to find Sophia, then he could go do whatever it was that Shane wanted to do. She would pay no mind about it. But Carol, she was going with the men and she was going to find her daughter and hug her if she still lived, or whisper her goodbyes if the men had to do what they needed to do to keep the group safe.

They couldn't let Sophia wander the earth as one of those things. They just couldn't. It was cruel and wrong and they just couldn't make her live with the knowledge that her walker daughter was out there hunting for human flesh.

Carol made her way back to the group gathered out front of the Church, her grief tucked away for now as best she could, the weapon gripped tightly in her hand. Everyone but Daryl seemed surprised to see her there, relatively functional and alert considering she'd cried herself through most of the night. He stared at her intently, like he was trying to sort something out in his head, then he turned abruptly to Rick and started barking orders.

"You an' Shane take the kid, don' want him near Carol."

He ignored her gasp of appreciation—not that she could hate a child but Carl was far from her favourite person right now.

Shane shook his head, expelling noisy breath like he wanted to say something insulting. He chuckled nastily, slapped Carl on the shoulder and then directed him away from the group. Carol glared at his back. No, she couldn't hate a child, but she was seriously thinking she hated Shane.

Without a word to the women, Daryl turned and headed in a direction they'd not been before, leaving Dale and T-Dog to keep an eye on their possessions. The two men abandoned the church in favour of the RV, T-Dog looking weak and pale. Daryl considered that for a moment, but the niggling concern washed through him as he hefted the crossbow to his shoulder and took the lead.

Lori, Andrea and Carol were at his back and Daryl felt the itch of someone's stare, knowing without turning it was Carol. He thought she must hate him, though when her eyes had caught his there'd been nothing to show it—not like the curl of her lip in distaste of Shane's current behaviour. He didn't know what that asshole's problem was but if he was on the ground Daryl thought he might kick the fucker's teeth in. Woman had lost her child—to the woods as well as to a walker's bite. The prick had no room for a bit of compassion?

They'd been moving for less than twenty minutes before their clothes were sticking to them with sweat. Every now and then Carol called out her little girl's name, the sudden crack in the quiet crawling like bugs up his spine.

"Ain't no use callin' out to someone doesn' wanna be found," he told her when he couldn't stand his teeth being on edge anymore. "We'll fin' her, and when we do, you got your chance. Make it quick, then get out." All without looking at her, without seeing the misery and tears in her eyes. Carol nodded to his back, understanding the parts he'd left out and trying to find the strength to deal with it. The overwhelming urge to thank him, to praise him for being a good man passed through her and Carol reached out, touched his back with the words barely making a sound from her lips when he spun abruptly like he'd been burned and turned his crossbow on her.

They all froze in shock, the women's eyes wide and Daryl cursed himself for being a fool. He should've known better, he thought, but the touch had been so unexpected. He felt like he was sucking air in like a freight train, his heart pounding too loud for even his own ears. A million words raced through his head to try and explain what he'd done, but before one settled with any clarity he realised the tip of his arrow was positioned to hit Carol right between the eyes. He lowered it abruptly, his cheeks lightly tinged with a blush of humiliation.

"House up ahead," he said, voice gruff, and with no further explanation, he loped toward it.

It took another minute for Carol to gather herself. It wasn't every day a girl had an arrow pointed at her skull. Wasn't every day a man jumped from the slightest touch, either, Carol thought, tucking the information away to consider another day.

"Come on," Lori said, already heading in the direction of the house. They caught up to Daryl at the front steps as he exited the house.

"She's been here," he told them straight out. "Slept in the cupboard, looks like. Fresh can of sardines open, too. Looks like she ate before settlin' down for the night."

"Even at the end of the world, that's not a kid food," Lori chastised him, like he was stupid.

Carol immediately shook her head, a shattered smile teasing her lips as her eyes teared up. "No, those are Sophia's favourite."

Daryl's smirk was a surprise. "Girl has taste then."

The companionable moment turned brittle within a minute, Carol searching his face for some direction of where to go now. They knew where she'd slept, that she'd still hungered for food, but where did that leave them now?

A single gunshot echoed through the woods around them, breaking the moment, and pushing Carol back to an edge she'd barely stepped away from. Daryl's lips became a firm line of anger and he jumped down the steps, heading back in the direction they'd come. He stopped, stunned in front of a solitary flower thriving on a bush, his hand drifting toward it before gently snapping the stem free. He stood in thought for a moment, then tucked it inside his pocket and led them at pace back the way of the church.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: When I started writing this fic, I had a certain end in mind. I'd planned to basically follow the show's plot and end up in pretty much the same place, but with a bit more Caryl thrown in to make my own heart sing. Since then, I've realised that I might like to move this in an entirely different direction, and to be all in my new element, I'm nervous as hell about it. Anyway, just wanted to put that out there and to thank my wonderful reviewers who may or may not have had anything to do with my new interest in taking this to a different place. Thank you, all, for keeping with me this far.

Part 5

If not for the pain, then maybe I would break…

Carol felt numb, like the events of her life were on fast forward and she couldn't find the button to slow it all down again. Daryl led them at a fast clip back to the church, and all the while she thought of that one gun shot. That lonely shock of sound that could only mean one thing—that Rick and Shane had found her little girl and she'd given them reason to put her down.

There was nothing she could do to stop the sob from escaping her throat, and she tripped through the forest, her eyes focused more on the heels of those that walked in front of her than on anything that might be around them. She felt a hand at her elbow and jerked reflexively at the touch, her breath stalling in her throat. She saw Daryl through her tears as he nodded uncomfortably before dragging her along.

They'd barely crossed the cemetery, Carol exhausted from the physical trek as well as her emotional one through the woods, when a stranger galloped out of nowhere on horseback. The woman was young, her Southern twang more pronounced as she urgently called for Lori, glancing over them quickly before being drawn like a moth to a flame to the brunette.

"Rick sent me. You gotta come now. There's been an accident. Your boy's been shot. You need to come now."

Lori didn't hesitate, her eyes wild with fear as she jumped up on the horse behind the girl and they raced away.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, we don't know this girl," Daryl yelled angrily at their retreating backs. "You can't go with her." He was right, Carol realised. This was no longer the kind of world where you could trust strangers on horseback, even when they were young and beautiful. The girl stopped, shouted directions to a farm with a sign saying 'Greene' and then they were gone, Carol's slow mind racing to keep up with this development. Eventually she put the words together and sagged, her momentary weakness too much to support her weight as she dropped on her knees in the dirt. Carl had been shot—that was the sound that had cracked the silence and forced them to return from the search.

"Not Sophia," she breathed, not quite certain if she was relieved or spiralling into more grief.

Andrea pulled her up, her arms embracing her and passing on as much comfort as she could. "No," she whispered in Carol's ear, her hand rubbing briskly at Carol's arm. "Not Sophia."

They walked to the RV, and found Dale fluffing around concerned about T-Dog. He was developing an infection in his veins from a cut he'd sustained on the Interstate as they'd attempted to flee from the herd. The herd that had sent Sophia running for her life. The world seemed to fuzz for a few minutes, Carol finding it hard to focus on the conversation around her. Vaguely she heard Dale chastise Daryl for letting Lori go with the stranger, and felt irritated. She wasn't sure why, but as they huffed and puffed she retreated back to the church steps, the world around her suddenly too loud for her head to engage with.

Andrea ran over to her after a while, clasping her hand and trying to pull her off the steps. They were going to follow that girl, Carol was told, find the farm and hopefully have some respite for a few days while they waited to heal their people. Carol didn't want to move, though, so she stubbornly sat on the steps and ignored the drone of Andrea's voice as the woman pleaded with her to get up. To move. Carol wanted to stay, immobile, for at least a few more minutes so she could remember how to breathe without it hurting. Find a way to slow the world down so she could keep up with it again.

The buzz of the RV as it started up and drove off barely registered, and instead Carol sat and listened to the cicadas in the trees, the sparse calls of birds fluttering from branch to branch, and tried to think of a way to go back a day. Go back to when Sophia was sitting in Rick's car beside her, excitedly thinking of a trip they might one day take to the Grand Canyon as they drove with hope in their hearts toward Fort Benning.

"She's not responding to me," Andrea said as she returned to the others standing beside the RV. Daryl had just tossed half a meth lab and pharmaceutical store to Dale to help out T-Dog before the man passed out, and Dale was busy telling Glenn he should take T-Dog to the farm for help.

They all looked at Carol, noticing her glassy stare into the woods, her arms hanging limp at her sides.

"I got this," Daryl huffed irritably, resigning himself to staying behind to keep watch over her. He'd been expecting her to fall apart completely long before now, so he was hardly surprised the moment had finally arrived. "Y' all head out an' I'll bring her when she snaps out of it."

He didn't wait for them to argue, just strode off. They stared after him nervously, then headed to their vehicles and drove off, leaving him with a grieving mother and the ghost of a missing little girl that had more than likely already turned.

The area remained quiet. Daryl propped himself against a tree not more than ten yards from Carol, and he watched her. She made him feel nervous, sick to his gut and antsy as hell. They both knew Sophia wasn't likely to be Sophia anymore, and Daryl knew that when he found her, they'd have seconds for Carol to accept it before they'd have to give the little girl rest. He'd been so hell-bent on destroying all threats at their camp at the quarry, having no problem putting a knife through the brains of their recently slaughtered, but the thought of doing it to Carol's little girl gave him pause—and made his belly feel even more queasy.

Completely unbidden, images of the girl in camp flashed through his mind—watching her talking to Carl, holding that damn doll the Mexican family had passed on to her as they'd left the group, her mother brushing her hair and hugging her when the girl was fearful and cried. They were memories Daryl could do without. He didn't know this girl; she was nothing to him, not his blood, definitely not his problem, and yet he felt more responsibility for her than he'd ever felt for anything so far in his shitty life.

Periodically he'd circle the grounds, crossbow at the ready. No threats showed up and eventually the sun began to lose its momentum and the heat started to ebb. He wandered back to where she hadn't moved in hours, her eyes dry and hollow.

"Be gettin' dark soon. You ready to go?"

With a frown she seemed to punch her way out of the fog and looked around, finally noticing the silence that had encompassed them completely.

"Where is everyone?" Her voice was dry, scratchy and confused and Daryl just stared at her. He wasn't the kind of guy that knew how to take care of a woman about to crack wide open, so when clarity started to shade her face he hefted a great sigh of relief.

"They all followed Lori? Is T-Dog okay?" She stood, making a grab for the railing at the side of the stairs as her shaky legs made her wobble. Quick surveillance of the area confirmed they were alone, and that darkness was falling rapidly.

He didn't answer her with anything more than a nod, diverting his gaze from her as he strode toward his bike. He wasn't sure he could cope with this weakling shit, especially if he'd be taking her out to look for her daughter in the morning.

"Move your ass, woman. Got to go find Old McDonald's Farm before it gets too dark to see the sign."

"Greene," she sighed, and Daryl looked up and thanked fucking God that she wasn't as far gone as she'd seemed.

He was on his bike, kicking the starter while she stood in the parking lot, looking at the empty spaces where their other vehicles had rested the night before. He was getting impatient, wanting to get away from here and back to the others, and that thought made his skin itch. He'd never been one to seek comfort from a crowd, but suddenly being alone with Carol and her grief was more than he could stand.

"What're you waitin' for? Hell to freeze over?" He revved the throttle, jumped forward a foot, then heaved a sigh of relief as she scrambled onto the seat behind him. She'd barely settled a palm on his hip before he kicked off, eager to leave the memories of this place behind, even if it meant tarnishing the next place with days that would be even worse.

It didn't take him long to find the place, a full moon aiding him to be able to read in the dark. Night fell suddenly out on the land, no streetlights this far from town and no electricity to power them even if they had existed. She got off without his asking, unlatched the first gate and shut it after he'd rolled through, getting back on behind him until they reached the next gate and she repeated the process, weariness starting to weigh her down. She'd not slept the night before so he figured she was due for it. He rode up to the house, marvelling at how stately it looked and feeling a little irritated at how lavish their new digs would be, even with pitched tents under the trees. Place was big enough to save more than their sorry hides, though he was more curious to see what kind of hospitality would be shown once their full number had been noted and their mission to find Sophia shared.

Lori headed toward them from the house the instant he pulled up and Daryl could see on her face that she was living her own kind of hell. Carol raced forward and embraced the brunette, telling her how worried they all were, and Daryl's eyes slipped away from Officer Grimes's wife and settled once more on Carol. He suspected he'd be embarrassed if either one of them caught his look of wonder at the woman whose child was still missing in the woods, but for the moment there was nothing stopping him from admiring her. Suffering through her own devastation and here she was offering solace to another woman. Daryl had never seen anyone with that kind of heart before—he suspected most people he'd known had been born without one at all—and he was impressed as hell.

Lori thanked Carol for coming back with Daryl, whimpered with her own fears, then ran back up the steps and into the house. Daryl didn't even see her go, too caught up in the play of emotions on the woman still in front of him. Carol wrapped her arms around herself and swayed, obviously weak in exhaustion, and he realised finally they'd not eaten all day. Dale and Andrea had parked under the trees between the house and the barn and Daryl figured it was as good a time as any to start settling in for the night. There was a bite to the air now that the sun was gone and he could feel a chill on his arms.

Carol hadn't moved, now staring at the dirt at her feet and seeming just as lost as she had for those hours staring into the woods from the church steps and Daryl couldn't hold back his growl of frustration.

"Come on." He grabbed her arm more roughly than he'd planned, tugging her in the direction of camp and prepared himself to catch her if she weakened any further. "You need to eat."

He wasn't prepared for the watery eyes and smile of her gratitude, but as he stalled in his stride, her hand reached for his on her arm and she squeezed it. "Thank you," whispered past her lips, and he tipped his head to look at her, a strange expression on his face while ignoring her soft touch for once in his sorry life. Her skin was warmer than he'd ever have suspected and it lit a spark against him that made him feel soft and humiliated.

"What for? Ain't done nothin'."

Her face broke open with humour, her smile the biggest one he thought he'd ever seen her make. "You have," she denied softly. "You've done everything."

And before he could register her words and throw at her a blustery response, she shrugged off his hand and walked on her own to the RV.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N…me again. Many thanks to Susan for helping me flesh this chapter out, and as such, there's almost 300 words totally unbetaed. Gold stars to me if you can't even tell ;)

**Part 6**

_And a riding we will go…_

Carol had had difficulty sleeping. She'd made the RV her home for the moment, too fearful to be in a tent on her own, even though this place made her feel the safest she had in a long while. She felt selfish, taking the bed, only allowing that guilt to fall from her shoulders when Andrea climbed in on the other side, reaching out and hugging Carol before curling herself up and going to sleep.

Her thoughts seemed too thick for her to push them aside and rest. Her stomach felt hollow, unable to eat as much as the others tried to make her. Her body felt bruised and her throat seemed to ache with a flood of tears she was trying so hard to keep inside. She knew everyone saw her grief—and that they understood and were as sympathetic as they could be—but they didn't deserve her sobs keeping them awake. To keep them guiltily searching for her daughter—her dead daughter that was no longer her little girl, but a walker.

Just thinking it made her choke, made her want to thrash and moan in these sheets until she had no energy to do anymore. The group would think it a waste of time to keep on with the search—Sophia couldn't have outlasted the fever for this long. In her head she knew that, but in her heart she knew that if she didn't see it with her own eyes, if she didn't see her daughter stopped before she could kill others—then she may never be able to sleep again.

Restless in her exhaustion, Carol got up from the bed and left the RV. She stood outside in the fresh air, the darkness making her feel invisible and almost weightless, like she could drift away on the breeze and find Sophia herself. The fanciful thoughts shifted abruptly as Daryl suddenly stood before her,peering down at her with frustration evident in the flash of his eyes in the moonlight and the firm line of his lips.

"Go back to bed," he ordered, his voice rough. "You'll be no good for lookin' tomorrow if you're too tired to walk."

Carol stared at him in shock, hope knocking at her heart as she watched him.

His voice fell on the air like it was made to be there, and instead of Carol arguing, she nodded. Feeling breathless she turned on her heel and hightailed it back inside. Her heart thumped hard against her chest and she almost ran back to the bed, squeezing her eyes closed tight and begging God to let her sleep.

Daryl was taking her tomorrow to search for her little girl, and with him there, she just knew they were going to find her.

Carol opened her eyes early, the sun barely a presence in the sky. The camp was beginning to stir and as she lay there, listening to Andrea's steady breathing beside her, she heard heavy boots stomp past the RV and knew that Daryl was already up. She didn't know how he functioned with so little sleep, let alone remained so alert to any danger that surrounded them, but she was grateful that he did. Whatever demons kept him up at night, she just hoped they didn't eventually wear him out.

Early morning chores couldn't be pushed aside, so despite Carol's nerves at going out alone with Daryl, and the thrumming buzz through her veins that she was going to go look for her daughter, she succumbed to her inherent need for usefulness and helped Lori with the laundry. Clothes didn't wash themselves and Lori was barely hanging on after her close call with Carl. She knew the other mother was desperate to return to the house and her son, but like them all she had her role to play in the group. They had to take every advantage in this safe place they'd found themselves in, so wash clothes Carol did, all the while watching as the men gathered around a map to work out the best place to start the search.

She watched as Daryl drew on a clean shirt—surprisingly one with sleeves—and her smile died on her face as she saw the vicious looking scar on his chest before he quickly covered it up. Her face flamed, a depth of understanding rocketing through her before she pushed it back in her brain for another time. She would let all these clues add up to something later—much later when she had time to think of something other than finding her daughter.

Only half-listening to the men's conversation, Carol's ears picked up the change from the serious discussion to Dale's easy ribbing about Daryl's supernatural experiences—the one he'd shared at camp what seemed a lifetime ago. Everyone had laughed and Carol remembered staring at Daryl then, wondering if he sampled his brother's stash very often. Knowing him better now she felt ashamed of herself, being so judgemental about someone she had barely even spoken to. She'd seen no evidence of Daryl taking drugs, and in fact, she was much closer to thinking that if Daryl had seen something in the woods, then it must be true. As impossible as seeing a real chupacabra was, Carol couldn't help but believe him.

She'd waited for the teasing to stop before stepping forward, watching carefully as Daryl refused to be made a fool of for believing in a chupacabra—and the way he told off the young boy, Jimmy, made Carol smile at his conviction. And why not, when he made the valid point that weeks ago they'd have all scoffed at the existence of the dead getting up, walking the earth and hungered tirelessly for their flesh.

He'd mentioned a horse, making Carol quiver with fear. She'd not been on one since she was a girl and had been thrown when visiting a friend on her property. But, knowing she'd be with Daryl, Carol forced her worries aside and decided to trust him.

The group had been surprised when he'd called to her, now a short distance behind Rick, listening to everything they'd said and planned while effectively looking like she was hiding. He'd told them that he was taking her, that if they found Sophia, Carol would need to say her goodbyes before he did what had to be done. She didn't blame him when she thought of him killing her daughter, especially when she'd seen his downcast eyes and sad droop to his shoulders as he'd said it. Tears welled in her eyes at being forced to face the truth, but Daryl was giving her this much, which was more than the others were offering, so she had to man up and just deal with it.

Rick had disagreed, arguing with her that this wasn't something she wanted to do. She could see the concern in his face, and the guilt, and in one deep breath she let all her anger and recriminations go. She'd been blaming Rick, she had and yet, Sophia running off hadn't been his fault. He'd run to them to warn them, got them to hide and it was Sophia that had gasped and moved too soon, drawing attention to herself. It was Carol that should have made Sophia stay closer to her, who should never have looked at that red dress with desire in her eyes.

Forgiveness in her heart, Carol clasped Rick's hands in hers and hoped he could see the absolution she felt. "I do need to do this," she told him, the tears once again threatening to fall. "I need to know she can't hurt anyone—that she won't turn anyone else into what that _thing_ turned her into. And I need to thank you, for going after her and doing your utmost best to bring her back to me in one piece."

"But I didn't," Rick said, emotion heavy in his voice as his own tears turned his eyes red.

"You did what you could and that's all I have the right to ask for." Carol threw her arms around the man and hugged him tight, it seeming natural even though she'd not hugged a man in close to twenty years—not since Ed had started to take out his frustrations on her and her well of affection had run dry. Except toward Sophia.

"Can you ride?"

The question startled her and she let go of Rick, both of them rubbing at their faces, sniffling and looking anywhere but at each other. Carol felt like she'd been slapped, accused of cheating and she looked around, a little lost but expecting Ed Peletier to jump out from behind a tree and punch her in the face. The words broke through that fear and focused her attention on that other thing she wasn't looking forward to. Horses seemed way too big to her, unpredictable and skittish.

"No, I can't," she admitted, and felt ashamed because here was another thing that Daryl Dixon could apparently do, and she couldn't even stand the thought of the damn horse.

"Best be learnin' quick, then." He headed to the stables, half way there when he turned and saw that Carol hadn't moved. "You comin'?"

Her pulse fluttered in warning and Carol grabbed up her bag and started walking after him. She'd packed some water and some food—not much because they didn't have much to begin with—but be damned if she was going to be offered something like raw possum innards or something equally revolting for nourishment. She reached the stable as he finished saddling the horse. There was only one out of its stall—Nellie—and Carol panicked. She didn't want to have to put a bridle on one of those things—they had massive teeth, hooves that always went too close to her feet no matter where she stood, and a way of ignoring every command she gave them with an efficiency she thought even Rick would admire. Starting to sweat in panic, Carol startled when Daryl swung his leg over his horse then held his hand out to her.

"Won't be too comfortable ridin' double but I'm not in the mood to go lookin' for ya'll, too, when your ride starts gallopin' one way while you're tryin' to direct it in another."

Carol stared at him, completely shocked. She'd shared the bike with him the night before, but only as there was no option and she was still half out of it. Actually, she thought, this would be easier. She was going to be terrified every second she was on that animal—so much so she wouldn't have a second to think about the man riding it in front of her.

With a complete lack of coordination that made her cheeks burn, Carol grasped the offered hand and half leaped, half was dragged until she sat on the back of the horse, feeling too intimately close to Daryl and sweating at the thought of putting her hands around him to hold on. She had no choice as he and the horse lurched forward and her fear shot through her like a firecracker in her head. He set off like a shot across the field, a scream bursting from her throat as she threw every apprehension she'd ever had aside and plastered herself to Daryl's back, positive her arms were almost cleaving him in half at the waist. She was mortified as she heard his chuckle, then just closed her eyes, her face buried in his back as he directed the horse to his destination.

Rick sat at his son's sick bed, head in hands and staring at the floor. Their new host, Herschel, had been right, saying he was too weak to help search for Sophia after giving his son so much of his blood the night before. He'd felt dead on his legs just walking from the planning session back to Carl, the steps up to the porch almost doing him in. His eyes ached from lack of sleep and tears, and his heart ached with failure.

Carol was good about absolving him from blame at their losing Sophia, but it didn't mean he could stop blaming himself. He'd failed the woman as much as the child and he should be out there with them both, helping as much as he could.

He looked up and saw Carl watching him, a sad smile on his face.

"You think they'll find Sophia?"

He wanted to say yes so they could at least close the chapter on this part of their story, but he had no experience at locating someone who was dead. Not in this world.

"I don't know, Carl. I guess, Daryl's got the best chance of anyone to do that."

"Do you think…" the boy paused, looking like he was really scared of the answer to the question he wanted to ask. "Do you think Sophia's mom will be okay? Do you think she hates me?"

Rick grinned at his son, finally confident that he knew the answer to something that was going on around him. "I think Carol's going to be just fine and I don't think she'd hate you, even if you'd done somethin' really awful."

Carl watched his father, his expression unsure. "Lettin' Sophia run was pretty awful, Dad."

Rick nodded, for it surely was something he wasn't proud of his son over, but there was little to be done once the horse had bolted.

"Wasn't the best decision you ever made, that's for certain. But Sophia was bit. Carol knows how terrified you both were. Just give her some time." He leaned over and smoothed the blankets that covered his son's body. "Right now, you get some more sleep. You need to heal."

Carl obediently closed his eyes and almost immediately he was asleep, leaving his father to think first about a little girl wandering around looking for flesh to eat, and secondly, strangely, the warm embrace of a woman who had offered him forgiveness where he didn't deserve it.


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

_That one's called Nellie…Nervous Nellie…_

Daryl hadn't thought this out. He knew he'd made a vital mistake the second he'd kicked the horse to a gallop and Carol nearly squeezed his guts up out of his mouth. Woman had more strength than he'd bargained for and her head buried against his shoulders, her chest pressed against his back, was causing all sorts of physical difficulties that he hadn't contemplated. She said she couldn't ride. She hadn't told him she was shit scared of the animal.

He'd slowed as he followed the trail up into the mountains, forcing his head to stop thinking about how it actually felt pretty good having a woman hold onto him, depend on him. He focused on his mission, to find Sophia. He didn't have much to work with. Her trail was long cold and his only point of reference was the river, so he found it and followed it. It was Carol that pointed the doll out to him, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Of course the little girl didn't have her doll anymore. Walkers didn't need to hang on to comfort toys when all they needed was to feel flesh tear between their teeth.

He retrieved it quickly, not really sure if Carol wanted the sodden doll back but giving it to her so she could decide. They rode on for another hour, Carol's arms finally loosening around his middle until eventually she bunched a handful of his shirt in each hand, her head away from him and looking out for her daughter. The silence between them stretched on for miles, both of them content to just eye the countryside without the distraction of talk.

He didn't see a damn thing that gave him any hope they'd find Sophia. For all they knew she could have joined a herd by now. Hell if he knew how these things worked once someone was turned. Whatever had tickled her ears as soon as she woke as a walker would have determined where she was now, and Daryl had to concede he had no idea what those liberating sounds might have been for the girl.

"We're not gonna find her, are we?"

Daryl blanched at how easily this woman seemed to see inside his head. The sun was hot and he looked up at the wide blue sky, squinting at the brightness trying to think of the best way to answer.

"She's prob'ly long gone. Could've joined with a herd, headin' fuck knows where." He hated the tone of defeat in his voice. He thought of the Cherokee Rose he'd found at that house the day before and felt a lump of something clog in his throat. It seemed like such a slap in the face that he couldn't tell her the story, hand her hope in the shape of a flower and force her to believe Sophia was going to be okay. Because the sad fact was, she wasn't. There was no hoping for that girl, what was done was done and Daryl knew that better than anyone.

Silence fell between them once again and he knew she was crying—knew it in the same way that he knew he was holding back more tears for the loss of his own brother. Losing Merle was a blow that he knew the others would never understand, but he thought Carol might. Thought that maybe one day, when she'd dealt with her own loss, he could talk to her about Merle and tell her the little pieces of his brother that the rest of the world had never seen. It would mean opening up to someone, revealing far more intimate parts of himself than he ever had to any of this group, but maybe, with her…

Nellie skittered nervously, breaking into Daryl's thoughts. A rustle in the grass revealed a snake slithering toward them and the horse reared up, tossing the pair of them to the ground. Daryl hit the ground hard a little further than Carol and he lost his balance. He caught her terrified eyes and felt the apology teeter at his lips before he tipped backwards and tumbled, fell, slammed into trees and rocks as he descended the ridge faster than was safe for anyone. There was a searing pain in his side as he hit the water, tasting his blood as it mixed with the river water and filled his mouth.

"Daryl."

Her panicked scream made him groan as he dragged himself to the surface and spat out his bloody mouthful.

"Shut up, you stupid bitch. You wanna bring a herd down on us?"

She shut up but even with the crash of the waterfall behind him and the ringing in his ears from the fall, he could hear her trying to stifle her whimpering. He stood up and moaned at the pain in his side, seeing one of his arrows sticking out through his flesh.

"Sonovabitch." He stumbled pathetically to the side of the riverbed, sat down and tried to assess the damage, almost panting with the pain. He didn't think the arrow had punctured anything besides his skin, though it burned like a bitch. Still, he needed to secure it so he could climb back up to Carol, and in thinking that he reared back on his haunches and peered up…and up and wondered if he could sprout wings and fly because that might have had more chance at getting him back to the top than his body was likely to do.

Using the knife sheathed at his belt, he cut the sleeves from his shirt and tied them together, thanking Carol silently for taking all his other shirts for washing and only leaving him this one with the sleeves still intact. As he finished the job, binding the makeshift bandage around the arrow and his body to stabilise it, he heard a rustling in the bushes near the river and reached for his bow.

"Shit." He must have lost it in the water when he landed on the arrow. He rushed back into the river, brandishing a thick branch to help him locate his crossbow by poking it into the muddy water, dredging the river floor for it. It took him too long to find it, and if it had been a walker in the brush he'd have been done for. It wasn't a good feeling, he realised, being at the mercy of those mutilated and decaying freaks, but then suddenly he could hear Carol calling down to him, trying to do it as quietly as possible when she was in full blown panic and he couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, yeah, hold your horses," he called as he shuffled to the bottom of the cliff and started the incline. The muscles in his arms strained painfully and Daryl grunted, trying hard to hold in his moans of pain. His side was burning and he could feel the blood loss beginning to effect his ability to focus, so with urgency he dragged one foot up after another, his hands grasping at every tree sapling sprouting out from the surface and every large rock that seemed stable.

About ten feet from the top he could see Carol's face and the relief he read there warmed him in a new way. She reached her hand out for him but he judged her still too far away, dragging himself up with his arms now because everything felt just too weak.

"Come on," he berated himself. "Stop being such a pussy."

And then he made the ultimate mistake, closing his eyes for just a split second and grabbing hold of something that wasn't quite what it was supposed to be and with a crushing sense of dread, he felt himself tipping back and falling once again, hitting rocks and trees harder and faster than he had the first time.

"No!" Her scream echoed around the woods and it was the last thing he could cling to before his eyes fell closed and blackness filled his head.

She didn't even think. Before he'd reached the bottom, Carol had started following him down, turning her body to slip over the edge and tried not to fall like he had but not quite being able to control the speed at which she reached the bottom. She sat for a moment—small part dazed and large part incredulous that she'd been so brave—trying to catch her breath, catalogue her new cuts and bruises, and allow her pulse to drop a few beats before she gave herself a heart attack.

Standing carefully, testing that she'd not managed to break something or twist her ankles from her foolhardy tumble down the ridge, she stood and rushed to Daryl's side. He was out, and Carol couldn't blame him when her eyes fell on the arrow that had pierced through his side.

"Daryl?" She had no doubt he'd have hated the taint of fear she couldn't keep from her voice.

He made no movement—nothing to imply he could hear her at all. Her hand shaking uncontrollably, Carol pressed two fingers against his neck where his pulse was supposed to be and almost collapsed on him with relief when his skin jumped against hers.

"Oh, thank God. Thank God."

She didn't know what to do. What if he'd broken something, broken his back or his neck? Complete horror tore through her and Carol jerked back, trying to gain control of her swirling stomach. If he was mortally wounded she'd never be able to live with herself. He was out here because of her, because she'd needed to say goodbye to her little girl. He'd have been perfectly safe if he'd stayed at camp, if he'd stayed away from her problems.

Carol watched over him, watched his chest rise and fall and then settled her hand against his heart. She couldn't understand why he'd cared so much for Sophia, why he'd cared so much for _her. _He could have left Carol many times, left her to grieve in the church without watching her every move carefully, left her sitting on those steps of the little building when she'd been unable to function, to focus on anyone or anything. Everyone else had left her, but he'd stayed, and he kept on staying and helping and pushing her until she felt he'd buried himself inside her soul. She couldn't lose him now, realising it would hurt as much as losing her daughter, if not possibly break her completely. He was a good man, a great man and proving himself to be everything the others of their group were, if not better. How could she not fall for him, or at least take him into her heart as one of the special ones that would kill her if she lost him?

The distinctive moans of the dead filtered through the air and Carol stood slowly, her terrified eyes sweeping the riverbed and finding a walker as it stumbled toward her. Her hands shook, her body ached and stung from her jerky descent down the ridge, but adrenaline like she'd never felt before pumped through her body as she realised she had both her and Daryl's lives in her hands. She'd never killed one before—the men had always been there to protect the women and suddenly Carol realised how much of an idiot she'd been. The current situation established without any doubt how easily she might be left defenceless and clueless on how to protect herself.

She wasn't going to be a victim. She had to protect Daryl like he'd been protecting her, and then she had to get them out of there and back to the farm. She gave her surroundings a calculated look and settled on the knife at Daryl's hip—the one he never left home without—and she unsheathed it with a confidence she'd never have thought possible when she was a mousy housewife and her husband's punching bag.

Not liking the thought of this thing getting too close to Daryl, Carol stepped forward and plunged the knife into the walker's head, belatedly realising that if she hadn't had that burst of fear-fuelled adrenaline she'd have never pierced the skull. Eye sockets, that's what she had to go for, she thought almost hysterically as another one stumbled out of the trees and lumbered towards her at a quickening trot. She tried not to scream as the knife sank through the eye socket and embedded itself in the brain. She stumbled as it fell, desperately clinging to the knife as the walker's body hit the ground and she heard another moan on its way toward her. Carelessly putting her foot on the body, she yanked the knife out of its head and prepared for the next assault. Before it got close enough, a bolt flew past her and slammed into the third walker's eye, knocking it backwards where it lay silent and still on the ground.

Carol whipped around. Daryl sat, wincing in pain and panting from fear. He pushed unsteadily to his feet and took what looked like a tortured step toward her. Grasping the knife in her hand, with walker blood dripping down her fingers, Carol met his eyes and saw approval. She swelled with pride in herself. She didn't know this woman—the one who could protect someone else by taking on the threat—but she had a feeling she kind of liked her.

"You okay?"

It should have been her asking him but as usual he had her welfare ahead of his own. Carol nodded, tears of relief in her eyes and then she launched herself at him, her arms winding around his neck as she squeezed what little life he had left out of him.

"I thought you'd be all broken," she admitted, her voice choked with tears, noticing but ignoring how tense his body was at her presumptive hug. He relaxed by degrees, one hand settling lightly at her hip and the other finally curling around her waist to pull her tighter against his body. She could feel his warmth against her and her stomach jumped in yearning. Slowly she pulled back, seeing the question in his blue eyes and hating herself that she didn't have an answer. She licked her lips nervously and felt a little thrill shoot through her as his eyes lingered on her mouth. Her heart seemed to be thudding painfully against her ribs and her face burned.

"Do you think you can make it back up there?" She pointed back over her shoulder, meaning the side of the hill they'd toppled over but ended up pointing down the river.

He smirked at her, his eyes squinting as he followed her hand before abruptly turning back to her and pinning her with the most intense stare she'd ever felt. "Shit, I was born to pull myself up the side of a cliff. How 'bout you?" His eyes sparkled and Carol was quite struck at how attractive he was, even with blood and dirt smearing his face.

"No, but I will. What other choice is there? We go down the stream and we might end up too far away to get back to the farm before nightfall, and you need to get that wound seen to." Her gaze settled where he'd previously had an arrow sticking out of his side, to now see a large, bloodied patch against the cotton of his shirt but minus the arrow. "You pulled the arrow out to shoot that walker?" She asked, shocked. She closed the gap between them again and put her hand against the wound, feeling the contraction of his muscular torso at her touch. His blood flowed between her fingers and she looked up at him, concerned.

"It's fine," he said, chasing her hand away as he readjusted his makeshift splint so that it put pressure against the wound. He took the knife from her and replaced it in the sheath at his belt, swung his crossbow across his back then limped slowly toward the incline, eyeing it with hatred.

"You go first."

Carol eyed his back and took a deep breath. "No. You're weak, Daryl. I'll go after you so I can help you keep on going up there."

He flipped around abruptly, his hand fisted, and she could see she'd offended him. "I ain't weak," he scoffed, but even his voice was a weaker burst of gruff than she was used to and Carol stepped closer and looked him dead in the eye.

"You fell down this thing not once, but twice. You got an arrow through you, you probably have a concussion and you're bleedin' like a stuck pig. You're the strongest man I've ever met, but I won't be watching you fall down there again. I just won't."

"You gonna catch me if I fall?" he bit out at her, clearly irritated at her little speech.

"Always."

And be damned if she didn't smile as she pushed him to take the first step.


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8

_There are many roads to travel but only one will lead you right…_

Her arms and legs felt like Jell-O and Carol did the only thing she thought was possible for her to do when her hand reached the top of the ridge and Daryl grabbed it and pulled her up. She collapsed. She panted, she moaned, and she tried to keep her belly from revolting as she struggled to recover her equilibrium. If a walker had come across her now, she had no doubt she'd be lunch because there wasn't one functional muscle left in her body.

She was humiliated that Daryl, having climbed it twice, both times with a wound in his side and probably a fever starting up in his blood, was still able to stumble around on his feet. Right up until his feet seemed to cross and he landed on his ass inches from her head. She snorted at his lack of grace—he normally walked with the confidence and sleekness of a panther—until she realised that snorting actually robbed her of air and put her in a bad way.

She turned her head and stared at his hip. His side was bloodied, but it didn't look like he was still bleeding at any great rate. The urge to lift his shirt and shift the sleeve bandage aside so she could look was strong, but she fisted her hands and resisted. She breathed heavily through her mouth, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she switched from looking at him, to looking at the sky, wishing she could calm her breathing enough to properly listen for walkers.

"You think…that horse might still be around here someplace?" The long sentence was her undoing and she quickly lurched to her other side and relieved her stomach of her breakfast. Killing her first walkers, protecting an unconscious Daryl and achieving the seemingly impossible feat of the steep climb seemed to be more trauma than her body could take, and she wasn't surprised. It must have quadrupled her usual energy load—not that she'd ever been idle.

"Not even if it was the only thing savin' it from bein' dinner," he growled before falling backward and hitting the ground with a thud. "Fuck I hurt."

Carol reached over and took his hand, almost letting go when he flinched and jerked reflexively away from her. Instead, she held on tighter. With a groan that came from way down deep inside, she pushed herself up, squeezing his hand one last time before using both her hands to brace herself against the dirt and pushing back to her feet, wobbly legs be damned.

Once she stood she wondered why she'd bothered, a crippling wave of grief crashing into her and knocking her knees out from under her. She'd forgotten about Sophia. Forgotten the pain of losing her daughter while she'd frantically tried to protect Daryl's life. The sobs came in a rush and her face dropped into her hands, humiliation for falling apart in front of Daryl Dixon warring with the lack of care that anyone saw just how much losing Sophia made her ache.

Succumbing to extreme exhaustion and the searing ache in her heart, Carol curled into a ball on the ground and cried. She was gasping for air, trying to spit out the dust that was sucked into her mouth with every heaving breath while crying uncontrollably. Her daughter was gone. Sophia, bitten and turned by now—they had no idea how to find her, and suddenly Carol was glad for that fact. Without seeing the cloudy gaze of her dead daughter, walking alongside others as dead as herself, Carol could convince herself it wasn't real. She could cling to some small hope that Sophia was still out there, alive with her eyes as clear a blue as they ever were.

She heard Daryl stir beside her and she heaved a deep, shaky breath to try and regain control of her emotions. She'd never have broken down like this in front of him if she hadn't just gone through such intense emotional and physical turmoil.

"I'm sorry." She sat up, wiping her eyes and he barely glanced at her, nodding as if he were afraid to really look at her grief up close.

"Best get a move on," he said, pushing to his feet and swaying in the breeze. "We'll be losin' the light 'fore long."

She scrambled upright, focusing on the now and what needed to be done. Daryl needed to get to Hershel and she could see the struggle in his limbs to function before he'd taken more than a few steps. "Do…do you want me to carry your crossbow?"

He whipped around and stared at her, a frown on his face. "Hell no."

"But…I'm sure it's heavy." She watched his face turn from anger to incredulity, and swept a nervous hand through her short, grey hair to check she hadn't suddenly sprouted horns. She certainly felt evil for suggesting she take his weapon. She wasn't quite sure if she'd ever seen him without it.

He stared at her intently, taking a step closer. His eye showed a nervous tick as he held back a wince and sweat broke anew along his top lip, but he refused to break the stare. "Hell…no." He paused. "Got it?"

She nodded in rapid jerks, wanting to laugh at how protective he was of the weapon but feeling in her heart that humour wasn't something she could achieve just yet.

He turned to leave, had barely taken another couple of steps when he stalled again, staring at the ground. Carol saw the doll and her heart clenched. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and moved on, walking past it and leaving her daughter's toy behind. She was aware that Daryl hadn't caught up and after walking for five minutes she was annoyed when he whistled sharply, making her turn.

"Hey, dumbass, you're goin' the wrong way." Without waiting, he stumbled off in the right direction, leaving her to follow like a chastised puppy dog.

He was visibly wilting by the time they reached the edge of Hershel's farm, the crossbow being dragged by its strap behind him as sheer will continued to put one foot in front of the other.

"Wouldn't it be better if I carried that thing for you? What if draggin' it along wrecks it somehow?"

She'd been asking him every twenty minutes or so as they'd headed back, grinning like a fool now as he turned back and growled at her each and every time. She'd stayed behind him most of the way, struggling to keep up with him even as his wounded body slowed, knowing he was disappointed in her not picking up the doll by the irritated way he looked at her each time she made her offer. And, well, she'd discovered he wasn't exactly ugly from this angle. It gave her something else to focus on, besides her own tragic life. He looked so male—a tough as nails, take no prisoners _man_, and she felt extremely liberated to be looking at any man as something other than potential pain. Ed had punched out all her desire to see men as attractive forces in the world, and Carol was more than a little surprised at how far Daryl had gone to shift those thoughts with little more than pushing through their experiences of today and leading her back to safety.

"Shut your damn mouth already," he growled without his usual bite, this time not turning back. His energy was almost fully depleted, making Carol forget her burgeoning admiration of him and focus on his bloodied shirt.

"Hey, you okay?" She stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, knowing immediately he wasn't when his usual flinch barely made his shoulders ripple.

"Nearly there," he said, voice low and quiet like he barely had breath left to form words. They'd broken into the clearing now and Carol could just make out the RV and after a shout, men ran toward them, weapons raised.

"Thank God, that must be Rick. They must think we're a coupla walkers," she said, amused at how they must look, all beat up and bleeding. "They can help get you to the house."

"Don't need no help," he spluttered as Rick, Shane and Glenn came to a skidding stop in front of them, Rick's gun raised and safety off.

Carol gasped and Daryl growled at the man. "Third time you've aimed that thing at my head. You gonna pull the trigger, or what?"

The crack of a gun firing echoed through the air and Daryl jerked backwards, knocked off his feet. It took Carol a second to work it out, seeing fresh blood soaking into his hair and she screamed, collapsing to her knees as she swept him up into her arms. Rick was shouting but she could barely hear his voice, the sounds of that gun-shot ricocheting around her head as she moaned in terror, rubbing at his face and ordering him to open his eyes.

Rick and Shane hefted him up, Daryl coming to and spluttering, "I was kidding," before his body went slack and he passed out again. They dragged him up to the house, a terrified Carol snatching up the now abandoned crossbow and running after them. She didn't know where the burst of energy came from, only knowing that she wasn't letting Daryl out of her sight.

That resolution was ripped away the second they made it to the house, Rick and Shane taking him to a room Hershel was now dubbing the sick bay and she was pushed aside. Hershel paused, looking over the scratches and cuts that dotted her neck, face and arms quickly before he went in to tend to Daryl.

"Should I be lookin' at you too?" he asked and Carol choked back tears at the fatherly concern she saw in his eyes. She shook her head, her mouth wobbling as she tried to control the pitiful wailing noise she knew would burst forth if she dared to speak.

With an understanding nod, he patted her on the shoulder and went into the room, shutting the door decidedly in her face. Carol put her hand on the door knob, determined to go in, but then fear took over and she stepped back. The weight of the crossbow in her hands made her suddenly angry and she wanted to go hunt down whoever it was that had almost put a bullet hole in Daryl's brain rather than the graze that bounced off his temple. Was it Dale? He was the one always on top of the RV and Carol felt a new rise of horror as she contemplated that possibility. Suddenly weary, she fell in a heap on the floor, tears of relief and exhaustion soaking her cheeks.

Lori found her a few minutes later, sitting on her ass at Daryl's door like some love struck groupie, his crossbow hugged to her chest and tear tracks obvious on her filthy face. The brunette's face was filled with compassion as she crouched beside her, her fingers rubbing away the tears.

"Come on. Let's go get you cleaned up and then you can eat. Maybe bring something up to Daryl later?" She stood and held out her hand, clasping Carol's tightly as she stood. The two mothers were close from the moment they'd met on the highway to Atlanta, but in this moment Carol was more grateful than she thought she deserved. Lori had almost suffered the loss of her own child the previous night, and while a small root of jealousy threatened her heart because Carl was going to make it, Carol refused to let it. It wasn't Lori or Rick's fault that she'd lost Sophia. It wasn't anyone's fault but her own, and Carol was done making anyone pay for that. Her daughter was dead. No amount of wishing or praying was going to change that, and now that her little girl would have turned, she had no hope of finding her. _Daryl_ had no hope of finding her, as much as she just knew he'd say he would. She wasn't letting him go out there again, not when he'd barely escaped today with his life.

Lori led her to the bathroom and Carol smiled at the neat pile of her clothing that had already been gathered for her. She saw soap and shampoo and nearly burst into a new onslaught of tears. Instead, she threw caution to the wind and hugged Lori tight, breathing deep, tortured breaths to keep the tears at bay. She'd wasted so many of them lately and it was time to stop. If nothing else was to come out of the day she'd had, it was that. She had to be stronger, had to help defend and protect their people and now she knew she could. She was capable. She'd killed walkers and she'd saved Daryl's life.

Lori left and Carol locked the door, peering long and hard at herself in the mirror. She could have wept for how destroyed she looked—her short, grey hair sticking straight up in parts with smears of blood and mud, her face a mess of grunge and sweat and tears, her clothes torn and her arms and neck covered in scratches from her slip down into the ravine. But her eyes…her blue eyes were bright with a new awareness of herself. The dullness of grief took a back seat to this new woman she was determined to become, but if she was absolutely truthful, she wanted that brave, fierce woman to be a damn sight cleaner the next time she saw Daryl. Ripping off her tattered clothing, Carol turned on the faucet and thought of singing as hot water flowed and the mirror began to steam up. The sting of her flesh was welcome and she laughed, feeling the freedom to do so rolling over her like a wave.

She was a survivor now, not someone hanging on to life because others were there to protect her so she could cling to it. She'd done something so utterly new today and it made her feel euphoric. Married to Ed she'd never have thought she could tear down the side of a ridge to go and protect someone she was quickly finding she cared a great deal for, nor would she have ever seen herself as the kind of woman who would willingly pick up a weapon and actively kill with it. Climbing back up behind Daryl, giving him little shoves when he slipped and almost knocked her back down again was even more empowering. It was an epiphany that it took the world ending for her to have and Carol wasn't going to knock it. It was hers and she was going to change if it killed her.

She hiccupped around a laughing sob.

It most probably would.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N Many thanks as usual to Susan for picking up some of my mistakes. Thank you to those who are reading and reviewing. Sorry for the delay with this chapter. Hope you haven't all forgotten about the fic ;)

Part Nine

_Tough as nails…soft as fluffy teddy bear…_

He was a tough son of a bitch, and Daryl knew it. He'd spent most of his life pushing hurt and pain away until he barely recognised it anymore. He hardly winced while the doc sewed up his side, ignored the roaring in his head as they wrapped a bandage around the graze Andrea had given him with her ill-aimed bullet—and he was grateful her aim was still shit—and he flaunted his badass, take no prisoners attitude to the doc when asked about his fucking horse. Like he could give two shits where that beast had got to. It'd left him high and dry after knocking him on his ass and he'd had to take Carol's subtle jokes all the way back to the farm when he'd have quite happily have keeled over and died on the spot. He supposed he should be grateful she'd been there, saving his ass when he'd been unconscious and all. He'd been pretty impressed to wake from a typical imaginary Merle dress down to see her wielding his knife like a pro, killing two walkers before he'd been able to load his crossbow to destroy the third.

Being a tough son of a bitch didn't make two shits of difference when Carol came to him later, bringing him food and compassion in equal portions. He knew he'd been too slow to raise the sheet around his body, that she'd have had to have seen at least a sample of his back's pretty picture, and as her heart suddenly became as easy for him to read as his own flesh, Daryl wasn't feeling so tough anymore. What was it about this woman that brought out the vulnerable in him? He'd always been the butt of Merle's jokes, criticising him for being the 'sweet one' of the brothers, the one that was always 'going soft', and it had always pissed him off that his brother could make having any kind of heart out to be akin to being as weak as a kitten. He'd fought against it his whole life—forcing others out of his life lest he feel some kind of affection for them. Now that walkers roamed the earth, surrounding the living on all sides till they were penned in and sitting ducks for the feeding frenzy that was bound to come, Daryl couldn't keep them out. And as Carol looked at him, tears in her eyes at her relief that he was fine, he realised he didn't want to.

She'd managed to wash up while he was being tended to by the doc. She looked fresh, soft yet dangerous. Daryl narrowed his eyes and refused to be sucked in, but as she brought him the food and sat on the bed at his side, he couldn't help but be caught in her gaze. She still held the tray, as if it were forgotten in favour of searching his soul. Then she looked down at it and smiled, remembering the food again.

"Lori cooked this in the kitchen. Can you believe it? A real kitchen." Carol grinned, her eyes wistful as she obviously thought of the wonders of modern living.

"Real kitchen ain't worth a damn 'less you know what you're doin'," he told her, leaning forward to take a sniff at what was on the tray. "Don't smell so bad," he admitted begrudgingly before falling back against his pillow. The softness of it made him uncomfortable, but not as much as being this close to Carol.

"How you feelin'?"

He couldn't fault her concern. He'd seen shades of it for various members of their group over the last weeks, just never thought it would be aimed at him. Didn't want it to be, and yet he felt warm all over. Her soft voice seemed to chip away some of his defensiveness, but it was only one tiny chip at a time or he'd fear he'd crack down the middle and spill everything he was right in front of her.

"Not as good as I look."

He was in the process of shrugging away from her when he noticed her reaction. She seemed to freeze, suddenly dropping her gaze back to the tray still in her hands and she quickly stood, the cutlery clinking against the plate. Her jittery response made him nervous, never having seen her clumsy before as she set the tray on the side table with more noise than an elephant stampeding through the house. The noise seemed to bounce against every nerve ending in his head and he couldn't help cringing. Curiosity got the better of him as he watched her, and he wondered what on earth he'd done to make her as skittish as a newborn foal.

She looked conflicted, torn between wanting to run and staying at his side, and Daryl started to wonder if it would be so bad if she did stay. They'd spent the whole day together and he'd allowed her to get closer to him than he'd ever let anyone else before. He sensed that there was a precipice they could both tumble from right in this moment but they were both undecided whether they could suffer through the fall.

Without warning, she leaned down and kissed his temple over the bandage before he'd made any decisions and his body jerked away from her before he could stop himself. Years of fearing touch made his body a well oiled machine of avoidance and when he saw her startle, he couldn't help but be sorry. But instead of apologising, instead of grabbing her hand and squeezing it so she knew he hadn't hated her momentary attempt at affection, he turned to his side and did what he always did; protected himself.

"Watch out, I got stitches."

Daryl looked at her in wonder as, instead of leaving like he'd have expected when she crossed the room, she quietly shut the door behind her. She returned to the edge of his bed, her expression soft as she watched him.

"You need to know something. You've done more for my little girl today than her own daddy did for her in his whole life." He saw the truth of it written all over her, in the way she sat all prim and proper, careful not to touch his body even though it was covered with blankets. There'd never been any secret of the kind of man her husband had been, and Daryl had no illusions about his own daddy, and maybe that's why he felt such a strong need to look for Sophia. Needed to _find _her, even though it was too late to save her life. Maybe if he could be different than his own flesh and blood, different to Sophia's daddy, he'd have half a chance at being the kind of man he wished he could have been. Half a chance to be like…

"Didn't do anything Rick or Shane wouldn'a done," he said, feeling some huge lump of need within him settle in his gut. He was surprised anew by how much her face relaxed when she smiled.

"I know." Her hand reached out to touch the bandage at his head, gentle fingers stroking where the stitches made his head sting and itch, all at the same time. This time he barely moved, holding his breath while he tried to anticipate what she might do next. "You're every bit as good as them," she whispered, and the intensity made him gulp. "Every bit." She leaned forward, looking intently into his soul before placing her lips against his bandage in the same spot as last time, and as his body caught fire, he didn't give a rat's ass about those stitches.

"You did good out there today," he felt compelled to say, knowing she'd done more than good. She'd saved his ass.

She grinned at him as she settled back on the bed. It was the happiest he'd ever seen her and he was satisfied with the impulse he'd had to delay her, suddenly scared that once she'd finished lavishing the side of his head with affection she'd get up and leave. He realised he didn't want to be alone, and besides, he had to be grateful to her for being there. He'd imagined Merle while he was passed out by that river, telling him to get up, telling him off for looking for a little girl not his own blood when he'd given up his search for his own brother before it had barely begun. Telling him to shoot Rick in the face for him once Daryl had dragged his ass back up that ridge and telling him that no one here would ever care for him the way Merle did.

He may be little more than a stupid redneck to most of them, but he suspected, at least to Carol, he might be more, and didn't that mean she cared? Wouldn't do him any good to go thinking about Merle, now. Merle was dead, so anything he said was bullshit anyway, Daryl reasoned, all the while feeling himself shrink inside with the desire to push Carol away. He was about to do it, too, when she snatched up his hand, squeezing it tight before he could even think to snap it back.

"Was time for me to step up," she confided, her eyes sparkling with new confidence. "Couldn't let you fall down that ridge a third time, could I?"

"Coulda killed yourself, you dumbass." She paid no mind to his insult, and he noticed she wasn't letting his hand go, even though every muscle in his body was tensed to rip the appendage away from her. She felt warm against his flesh and he felt a tingle start in his fingers and make their way up his arm.

"And I could've died up there waiting for you to come save me, too," she rallied, and he nodded, admitting the words as fact. She tilted her head, contemplating him in a way he'd never seen anyone do to him before, like she wanted to see something deep inside him and he feared it wasn't there. Her thumb started to stroke his as she seemed to get lost within herself, her mind maybe replaying their earlier calamities and finding them well enough to sustain the smile on her face, and a wildfire raced up his arm.

"Bit of trainin' and you might even get to be badass," Daryl said thickly, the stroke of her thumb whipping up a furnace of sensation throughout his body. He had no idea what to do, how to react, wanting to take his hand back but wanting her to keep touching him so he did nothing, waiting for her to snap out of this mood she was in. Waiting for her to return to the scared, mousy Carol he'd first met at the quarry.

Her expression sharpened and he could see some kind of resolution about whatever she'd been thinking about and he prepared himself for her letting him go, feeling relieved that the hand-holding was about to end but also afraid it might be the only touch he ever received for the rest of his life.

"Will you do it?" she asked, and he could see her draw herself up straight, determination screaming at him from every inch of her. He blinked, momentarily losing sight of where the conversation had led him as he became distracted by the line of her throat, her shoulders thrown back and her eyes shining brightly with anticipation. The fuck he knew for what, but the change in her was overwhelming his sense of self-preservation and he drew the sheet up closer to his chin, suddenly feeling like he needed protecting from the likes of her.

"Will I do what?"

She clucked her tongue at him with impatience and Daryl shrunk back against his pillow, trying to snatch his hand back and swearing under his breath when she clung on.

"Teach me how to protect myself, and…everyone," she finished lamely and for a second, Daryl thought she was going to say him, that after herself, she wanted to protect him and he suspected his heart just skipped a beat.

"Think you'll learn that pretty fast when we go back out lookin'. Sophia's a walker now," he said and his own voice had lost much of its gruffness, knowing how much the truth would hurt. The pain that crossed her face made him feel guilty for saying the obvious, but there was no way to avoid it. "Only way to find a walker is to go lookin' for other walkers."

She reacted abruptly, dropping his hand and leaping from the bed, doing a mini pace beside his bed while ringing her own hands in anguish. Her eyes snapped up at him and that rod of determination straightened her back as she took a deep, steadying breath. "No."

"No, what?" He was genuinely confused. This woman was throwing him for more loops than his brain could navigate around at the best of times, but with a gaping wound in his side, another on his head and a belly hollow of food, he felt himself scrambling to work out the most basic of things, let alone someone as complicated as Carol had suddenly become.

"No, we aren't doin' today again." There was no mistaking his huff of annoyance and Carol quickly sat back on the bed, but she didn't pick up his hand again, probably knowing she'd caught him in a softer moment before and that it wouldn't happen again. "You almost died today. I can't let that happen again."

"My choice," he told her angrily, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring at her.

"My daughter," she countered, her own eyes flashing now with a temper he had no idea she had.

"You wanna come across her when we least expect it? Maybe she'll latch on to one of the group—Glenn or T-Dog, maybe Andrea— start tearing them apart and you won't react fast enough because you'd forgotten she was a threat?" he said viciously, painting her an ugly picture to snap her out of this mood she was in. "Best to hunt her down now, while you're prepared."

He found it easier to look into her eyes with tears filling them. The tears he knew and expected and was more comfortable dealing with.

"That's cruel," she hissed, her hand rubbing at some of the tears that escaped down her cheek. "There's walkers everywhere, Daryl. How the hell are we supposed to find one little girl amongst them all?"

He felt shamed but still determined. He couldn't explain why he had such a need to find that little girl, but find her he would. But maybe, maybe taking Carol with him wasn't an option anymore. Maybe taking her and forcing her to see her daughter dead yet walking around and feeding on the living was a cruelty that even he should be ashamed of inflicting upon her.

"I'll go on my own," he conceded, then bit his lip sharply as she spun around and glared.

"You will not." The strength within her seemed to evaporate in a second and she sat again, raising her hand slightly as if to find and take his again but he foiled her touchy feely actions by keeping his arms crossed against his chest. "I'll go." Her expression was filled with sadness and fear and Daryl thought that was about as it should be, and though he was beginning to feel bad about extending her grief, he was glad she was going to be with him when he found her little girl. While he watched, her sadness seemed to be shirked from her shoulders and her mouth quirked into a grin. "I have to. You're not safe to let out on your own." She jumped up off the bed, winking at him like he was some kind of guy you'd wink at, and made her way swiftly to the door. Her hand on the knob, she flicked her head toward the food on the bedside table and grinned. "I'll be back later to get that. You should eat and then get some sleep."

She was gone, leaving him to stew about that wink and what all it meant.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N … My wonderful beta, Susan, saved me on a couple of things in this chapter. After all these years I have become familiarised with the differences between American/Britishisms but still, in the thick of writing, I do sometimes slip up. So massive thank you's to Susan for saving my…ass. LOL.

Also, a little warning. This isn't originally the direction I'd started out thinking this fic would travel, but I was convinced to explore other possibilities. JackAndHoney, this one is entirely thanks to you, so I hope you are still reading and that it satisfies something for you ;) I am very interested to hear feedback on this one, folks. Do you like the idea, disappointed by it? Want to unfavourite or unfollow? Feeling very nervous, but please, read on…

Part Ten

_If one may fall, surely the rest will follow…_

She didn't know how far she'd walked before she'd started to feel really sick. She'd lost her doll somewhere in the water when she'd fallen in, finding the coolness of the liquid a relief against her slowly burning skin. As darkness came, fear of more walkers tearing her apart sent her scurrying out of the woods and she heard a car, saw the edges of a town, though she couldn't be sure because her vision was getting fuzzy and her ears were starting to ring. Her body was sweating even in her damp clothes, and as weakness seized her limbs, she fancied she heard the car stop, the door creak open and someone big bending over her before she lost consciousness all together.

The Governor paced, darting frightened looks at the girl laid out on the table every minute or so, scarcely believing she was there. "How long ago was she bitten, do you think?" he asked randomly after keeping his silence for more than an hour, watching Milton as he administered one medication after another, setting up a drip and trying to excise as much of the child's wound as he dared. The smell of burnt flesh turned his stomach but for the first time he had hope for some kind of cure, and if a cure could be found for someone who'd been bitten then maybe Milton could find one for a girl who'd already turned.

Milton glanced up nervously from his work, feeling the pressure of the Governor's stare. He glanced at Merle, the man who'd found the girl and brought her in, and decided the Governor wasn't the only one who seemed to have a vested interest in this outcome. It was curious as he'd never seen Merle around any of the children in the town—and a good thing, too, he decided, as the man's uncouth and violent nature wasn't something young people should be exposed to. But right now, he was definitely glowering and his intent stare seemed to warn Milton not to screw this up.

"I think…at least six hours? Her time was definitely almost up. This…is a long shot."

The Governor nodded, though his eyes looked crazed and Milton knew it wouldn't be a fun night if the girl didn't pull through. Merle, on the other hand, had fire glistening in his eyes and Milton was very much afraid that if he failed, he might not live to see another experiment.

"Where'd you find her?" The Governor asked Merle, his eyes barely leaving the child as she lay unconscious on the table but hooked up to a monitor so they could see if her heart started to lag.

"Stumbled out onto the road in fron've us as we were headin' back from our run. Damn near hit her, too. Thought she was a walker, but she's a kid. Didn't seem right to take her out like that, so got out to put a knife in her brain and found her breathin'.

"And you thought, what? You'd bring her in to kill us all when she turned?" Milton inquired, though his professional curiosity was definitely piqued.

"Thought you'd enjoy the chance to experiment, Doc. You gotta problem I should know 'bout?" Merle strode forward, threat in every step he took until the Governor stepped between them, putting his hand up to stop his right-hand man.

"You did the right thing, Merle. The right thing. This was good."

Milton watched how the praise didn't affect the man like it usually did, and stowed that observation away to ponder another day. He got back to work, wondering if he had the slightest chance of saving this girl's life, and wondering what it would mean for them all if he did.

There was a knock on the door and one of the Governor's foot soldiers entered, telling him he was needed and with a final, longing glance at the girl, he left. "Keep me informed, Milton. Merle, you stay here in case she turns."

Merle nodded, but the anger obvious in his clenched jaw and the tick around his eye skipped the Governor's notice as the man left the building. It hadn't escaped Milton.

The voices woke her. This time they were hushed, arguing, and one sounded much scarier than the other. That scary voice was familiar, though she still felt kind of fuzzy and couldn't quite place where she knew it from.

Her eyelids were too heavy to lift, so she listened as she struggled to fully wake. Or tried to. It was hard to focus when the smell of something really dead washed over her senses, sparking a horrible memory of when her mom found a half rotted mouse behind the dresser in her room. The stink had robbed them of breath but the sight of the thing had made her vomit. Now, wherever this was, smelled even worse.

"Look, jus' let me know if he's gettin' antsy and wantin' to get rid of her, all right?" the scary man said and she was terrified it might be her he was talking about in a harsh whisper.

"Why do you even care?" the other one said and her insides started to feel funny, her skin burning hot on the outside.

"You assholes think I'm seven levels of stupid in this place, but you ain't worked out old Merle at all. This one's personal, so don't cancel you're experiment till you've warned me about it first." There was a loud bang, like someone slamming their fist down on a table, and a ton of metallic things clattered together and fell onto the floor.

"Merle?" The name whirred around in her head, conjuring pictures of a scary man at the quarry, two scary men, though she knew Daryl wasn't really that bad. Not bad, but maybe not good enough that her mom would trust him enough to ever let her be left alone with him.

She didn't realise she'd said his name out loud until she felt the cool slide of his shadow fall over her.

"Back with us, sweetheart?" She felt him pick up her hand and squeeze it, and even though she still couldn't open her eyes, and even though she wanted to go back to her mom and Carl and the others in the group, she suddenly wasn't feeling so afraid anymore.

"Not…walker?" Seemed the words were as difficult to push from her throat as it was to open her eyes. She just knew if she could do that she'd probably be terrified, so opening them didn't seem like such a good idea.

"Hell no," Merle confirmed loudly before leaning down to whisper in her ear. "No more talkin' less you get us both into a pile o' shit ole' Merle can't get us out of, you hear?"

Nothing more than a croak came out of her in answer and he grunted in satisfaction, patting her hand reassuringly.

"Do you know her?" the other man asked, his voice suddenly a lot more interested and closer.

"'Course not," Merle scoffed.

"But she said your name," said the other voice, disbelieving.

"Yeah, jackass, straight after I said my own name mesself." She couldn't see but knew without any doubt at all that Merle was rolling his eyes, and then the conversation faded and she stopped trying to push open her eyelids, stopped trying to work out how she could be with Merle when Rick had told them that he was dead. Probably dead. She stopped trying to make sense of any of it as her world seemed to fade and the voices retracted and everything became silent.

Daryl had found an unexpected ally in his argument to continue the search for Sophia. Shane stood fully behind him, agreeing that not only would it be better for them to find Sophia and give her the end befitting one of their group, but it was a good idea to keep scouting outside the farm, collecting resources and keeping an eye on the movement of the walkers. Carol didn't know whether to be touched that Shane felt so strongly about finding Sophia, or insulted that he wanted to hunt her down like a rabid dog and make sure she was good and dead.

Her breath hitched in her chest, and she realised it wasn't going to be her head that decided this one, but her heart that shrivelled at every mention of her daughter being a walker and needing to be neutralised before she could hurt one of them. The chance that Sophia would ever encounter their group again was so remote that Carol wanted to laugh at this panicked thinking, but if she did that she'd be laughing at Daryl and after the day they'd spent together, the suffering he'd borne while searching for her little girl, it seemed needlessly cruel.

The map was out on the hood of the car again, and this time Carol quietly moved between them, standing next to Daryl—who completely ignored her as his finger swept over a section of the paper, indicating which area he planned to investigate. Shane was animated as he claimed his area, choosing Andrea to go sidekick with him without even asking. Carol glanced up at Rick, saw the thin line of his lips and the emotion in his eyes. He didn't like this, felt like her, that Sophia was dead and they should just let her be.

"This ain't right," he finally said, and everyone stopped doing what they were doing to stare at him. "We're just runnin' after ghosts. Daryl, I get your point and it would be awful if she did find us and take down one of our own, but at this point, I'm afraid you're more likely to run into a herd and be cut down by them before you even came close to finding Carol's little girl." He stopped, watery bloodshot eyes aimed at Carol as he reached across the car and took her hand, imploring her to understand. "I wish I could bring her back to you, you know I do. But this is crazy."

Carol nodded, squeezing his hand tight so he knew she believed him and agreed. "I know it is," she said, then let him go, walking away and hoping that maybe Daryl and Shane would drop it and they could just sit on the farm all day and be safe.

She ignored the heated discussion that erupted after she left, busying herself in hanging more laundry between the trees at their camp. She jumped in surprise when Daryl was suddenly behind her, hissing into her ear. "The fuck was that?"

Carol blinked, not quite sure what he was referring to or why he was so obviously furious. It couldn't have been a surprise that she didn't want to do this—that the only reason she was going at all was to make sure Daryl came back safe.

He apparently didn't care to actually have an answer, thrusting a vicious-looking knife into her hand before stalking toward his bike with his filthy temper curdling the air behind him. Carol rolled her eyes and rushed after him, bewildered at the strength of his annoyance. All she'd done was agree with Rick, letting him know that she didn't blame him. Didn't want him to feel guilty about how things had turned out.

She sighed as the bike roared into life, Daryl looking more thunderous the longer she took to reach him. She was almost scared about how angry he was, choosing to not touch him lest it set him off even further, and so her only choice was to try and hold onto the back of the bike and lean as much into the movement of the thing so she wouldn't fall off at the first corner he took. She just wished she had somewhere to sheath the knife while they travelled the roads.

She'd thought they'd start in the town first, but Daryl roared straight through, speeding up and following the main street out until they reached a fork in the road. He turned the bike left, and Carol got a sense that he'd somehow done a huge loop around and was heading back to the Interstate. He slowed once they hit the graveyard of cars they'd been caught in before, but he didn't stop where the RV had stalled last time, instead blowing on through for several miles. The cars filled with the dead or splattered blood hadn't let up, extending on for as far as Carol could see, and her heart clenched painfully. All these people, innocent people dead, and for what? She wanted to cry, but she'd decided yesterday that she was done crying. No point crying over spilt milk, her Ma used to always say, and Carol figured this was as good spilt milk as any.

Daryl slowed in the middle of the road, looking around them for any threat of walkers before killing the engine. He didn't look at her as he got off the bike and walked away from her, swinging his crossbow back and forth. The further away he walked the more nervous Carol became and she hopped off the bike and chased after him.

"What are we doing here, Daryl? I thought we were looking for walkers?"

He turned on her so fast she dropped the knife, taking a step back in fright. She watched him struggle with some argument that was going on inside his head, wondering if she should chance taking her eyes off him and picking up the knife.

"Daryl?"

Some of the fight went out of him when he heard her voice tremble. His hand stroked the crossbow nervously, a sign of his torment.

"You think we're wastin' our time? You want to quit?"

Carol stepped forward, her hand raised but before she could even think where she was going to place it, he'd reared back away from her. She dropped it back to her side, suddenly embarrassed that she'd even tried. "It's a needle in a haystack, Daryl," she said sadly, looking around her at the cars massed higgledy piggledy all over the highway. "How can we know where she'd have gone? Which sound she followed when she first came to? What life she sensed? We can't know any of it and we're what?" She spun around, her arms spread wide to encompass the mess they stood right in the middle of and the words Rick had used hit her like a steam train. Her voice hitched on a sob and her eyes teared up, despite every effort to block them. "We're chasin' her ghost, Daryl. I just…" The fear slammed into her without warning and she shook. "I can't lose you, too."

He looked shocked and a little bit revolted.

"You can't lose me, too?" he repeated, absolutely incredulous and furiously angry. "The fuck you need me for when you've got Rick danglin' from your little finger?"

"What?"

"Walker."

She stared at him, totally confused by his manner until he loaded up his crossbow and fired it at something that had been sneaking up behind her. Shame flared across her cheeks at how close it had managed to come, but then Daryl was pushing past her to retrieve his arrow before attempting to brush past her again to escape back to the bike. Before he could, Carol grabbed his arm and swung him back to face her.

"What do you mean about Rick?"

The snarl on his lips did nothing to quell the rising fear she felt regarding this situation, knowing she was vulnerable out here in the open and distracted by Daryl's attitude. She could thank God that at least his anger didn't mean he retired his caution, if keeping her safe despite being angry with her was any indication.

"Man's all over you like a rash and you ain't exactly pushin' him away, are ya? You do know he's married, right?"

Carol blinked, struggling to work out where this accusation came from, and wondered—hoped—it might derive at least a little from jealousy.

"Rick just feels guilty about Sophia. I don't want him to." Her words showed the simplicity of it, but Daryl still seemed too angry to listen. She spied a walker making its way toward them back in the direction of the bike but before she could open her mouth to warn him, a few more stepped out from behind some cars, and then more. It was the herd all over again, and Carol snatched up her forgotten knife and ran to Daryl, her hand fisting a handful of his shirt. "What do we do?"

He turned to look at what had inspired her frantic behaviour and swore. "Run for the bike," he ordered, grabbing her hand and dragged her there in case she didn't run as fast as him. He jumped on, revved it as she got on behind him, her hands this time clinging to his waist tightly as he attempted to turn them around with walkers reaching for them, desperate for their flesh. Carol closed her eyes, squeezing against Daryl's body as if not seeing was believing and then breathed deeply when the bike made the turn without her being ripped from it, and they sped back toward safety.

He stopped this time in the town proper, pulling a shaking Carol from the bike and helping her stand on the side walk. "Stay close," he told her, and she grabbed at the back of his shirt and almost plastered herself to his back. He stopped and she wondered if she should let go, but then he started walking again, ducking into the first store he saw and checking it thoroughly for walkers. Carol gripped the knife in her hand, knowing she could use it if she had to, but still feeling so ragged she really hoped she'd not need it. Daryl finished his sweep and closed the front door, pulling her from the window so they were hidden in the back of the shop. Safe, but private, and a good place for Carol to try and calm her breathing back to normal.

"That was too close," she whispered. She was still loosely holding the back of his shirt, even though he'd turned to face her, so she was standing so close she could see how his throat flexed as he swallowed, the tick of his pulse and the nervous twitch around his mouth.

"All right," he said, making Carol's brows draw together in renewed confusion. "We'll stop lookin'."

She figured that might be as good as she'd get from him admitting they'd almost been caught in the midst of a small herd because they'd been too busy arguing about whether or not they should be out there in the first place.

Relief made her sag against him, her arms tightening around his body as she allowed herself the grief of a few more tears for her baby. It was one thing to say they should give up looking for Sophia, knowing how impossible it would be to find her, but it still broke her heart to know she'd never see her child again. She sobbed into his shirt for several minutes before she felt his arm fall around her shoulders and in that instant Carol forgot the argument of before, dismissing the whole Rick accusation as stress of some kind, or a sense of betrayal because she hadn't backed Daryl when he'd needed her to. It wasn't important now that she'd secured Daryl's own safety as much as she could.

Overwhelmed by the exhaustion of the last few days, Carol closed her eyes. "Can we stay here for a while? I feel so tired."

"Yeah, okay," he said, voice about as gentle as a bear. "But we best be gettin' back before dark."

She nodded against him, not wanting to let go, but he pushed away from her and led her to a chair in the storeroom. "Get some rest. I'll keep watch." He was gone before she could reply.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N I really want to thank the couple of people who reviewed the last chapter: Ashvarden—for being so loyal, rlmcn for being such a great friend, and Supfan. I'm not sure if maybe the fic is boring everyone else, but I do appreciate hearing from you guys and knowing that someone is enjoying it ;) I've enjoyed writing this fic and still have big plans for it for future chapters, especially now as I have embraced a completely different path. This chapter is kind of slow, so I hope it doesn't lose you all completely.

Thanks again to my wonderful betas, Susan and Tam.

Part 11

_And softly does it until her whispers burn out my heart…_

At first Carol wasn't overly worried when her inner alarm clock failed that morning and she slept in past her morning breakfast detail. It had been a late night, one where she'd tossed and turned and as the night subtly passed into morning, she'd still felt too twisted up in knots to be able to sleep. At some stage she finally had, her eyelids getting heavier and her brain more sluggish until finally conscious thought vanished and she fell into sleep. She wished she could say it had been dreamless, but that would be classifying herself a fool, and if there was one thing Carol wasn't anymore, it was that. She'd been a fool most of her life, but since walkers had come and laid waste to her former existence, she knew it wasn't something she could afford to be anymore.

No, she didn't experience dreamless sleep anymore—she didn't think any of them did. But her unconscious moments were now filled with dreams of Sophia, getting bitten and turning into a monster. Sometimes her little girl was alone, stumbling slowly toward her, jaws clacking in hunger, but so small—too small—to be any real threat to her own mother. Other times she saw Sophia moving within a herd, her little body almost entirely obscured by so many others yet also swept up into the frenzy to feed on living flesh. _Her _flesh, and it made Carol feel sick to her soul.

On more than one night she was aware she'd woken others up with her cries—with her _screams _for Sophia—but not one of them censured her for it. On different nights she'd had Lori or Andrea come to console her, hold her while she wept her grief, then laid her back down on the pillow of the RV bed and let her go through the motions all over again. The night before it had been Dale, finishing his turn at watch he'd been just in time to stop her in the throes of one of those dreams of her daughter and he was able to pull her out of it before it could go too far.

This morning, she'd slept past breakfast, and despite her stomach growling and her need to relieve her bladder becoming uncomfortable, Carol couldn't drag herself out of bed.

The day stirred and woke up around her, and with a glassy expression that saw everything and nothing at once, Carol stayed still, begging a God who'd stopped taking her prayers seriously to please let her be left alone. Drifting in and out of sleep, Carol could say she was triumphant, because no one came near her all day. She reached the point where her belly was so empty that it just stopped bugging her for food, and her bladder clenched into an aching ball and seemed to nearly dry up in protest of being ignored for so long.

She sensed when the day started to cool into early evening and marvelled at what a day it must have been for not one person to call into the RV for something. The bag of guns, plates, a tissue. Maybe they had entered, finding her during one of her naps, and decided to leave her be. She couldn't be sure, and though she felt cold that no one seemed to really care where she was, she decided to let it go and cling to this bed as long as she could. As her eyes drifted closed once more, she decided she didn't care about that inner alarm clock. If it was broke it didn't matter. Wasn't like she had anything to get up for anyway.

For reasons he preferred to keep to himself, Daryl avoided Carol like the plague. He'd intentionally stayed away from her since their last trip several days before, not liking how she seemed to always end up in his arms, her standard response every time either of them seemed to escape a deadly situation with their lives. He didn't like that he'd failed at finding her little girl—didn't like that he'd let the girl get bit in the first place. Hated the way his heart reacted every time he saw her with Rick—every glance they shared and every seemingly innocent touch that went on right underneath Lori's nose. Sheriff had married himself one stupid bitch of a woman, but it wasn't up to Daryl to point it out. Wasn't like she hadn't kept herself busy with her own emotional drama and the elastic band that kept snapping her back into Shane's orbit.

Most of all, he stayed away because she was scaring the shit out of him with this lethargic crap she was pulling. She was tired all the time. He could understand that, they were all tired. It was hard work being on the run from monsters come frighteningly to life—hard work cooking and cleaning for a group of ten, let alone draining yourself dry going out and looking for a little girl that wasn't about to be found. But the minute he'd agreed they should give up, she'd been tired every damn second of every damn day, and he had no idea what to do about it. He didn't even know for sure if he _wanted _to do anything about it. He only knew that somehow he'd started caring about her, and he wasn't going to let that shit fly.

So he backed off, spent almost all his time out hunting—game, walkers, it didn't really make a bit of difference as long as he was gone from the camp and gone from her.

Didn't mean he didn't still notice things. Breakfast that morning had been real eggs—a real treat the old man who owned the farm had graciously given them—and Daryl scooped them into his mouth like a ravenous wolf. He drank his cup of water with similar intensity and then looked around him, not liking that it was Lori that had handed him his food instead of the usual Carol.

"Where's Carol this mornin'?" he'd asked, only to be told she was sleeping in and to let her be.

Rick had asked him if he could help with farm chores—inspecting fences, herding cattle into a different field, keeping an eye on Shane as he whipped their members into a keen fighting machine. When he'd gone back to camp for some water and one of those sweet peaches that Glenn had been circulating with that weird look in his eye, like he was challenging them to a secret instead of a piece of fruit, he'd asked again where Carol was.

"She's just resting, Daryl," Andrea told him, making her way onto the RV to take her turn at watch. "Let her sleep."

He clenched his jaw and looked at the door of the RV and decided it was none of his business, spinning away to stomp into the woods, see if he could track anything down for their dinner that night.

When he arrived back, he dumped two snakes and a rabbit on a collapsible table in front of Lori, and took a little satisfaction in how he made her jump. By now his eyes were trained to look for her and he swept the camp with a growing frown.

"Where's Carol?" This time he asked Rick and by the uncertain look in the ex-officer's eyes, the shifty way he sought out an answer from his wife and even Andrea who found herself on the fringes of the conversation, Daryl realised not one of the assholes had made contact with Carol all day.

"She must still be—"

"Don't go tellin' me she's still in bed and not one of you kind, concerned folk went and checked on her." Daryl glared at them, moving toward the RV before any of them could snap their jaws shut, leaving them to collect flies while he raced in to see to the problem once again.

She was staring at the wall when he entered, her cheeks wet though no sound came from her, her body so still he wondered for a second if she were dead. He propped his crossbow against the end of the bed, then dropped to his haunches in front of her, putting himself right in her line of vision. She stared straight through him in a way that made his gut clench painfully.

"What are you doin?" His voice hitched in his throat and he cleared it self-consciously, lifting a hand to rub off some of the still-flowing tears with his thumb. "You got everyone worried out there."

That seemed to break through the wall she'd constructed and she turned her head to stare at him. "What? Ain't no one out there worried about me today, Daryl. Besides, I'm fine. Just tired, is all. I'll do breakfast in the morning."

Her apathy chilled him, and it made him angry. He stood and without warning, yanked the covers back off her slack body, wondering if that action was the smartest idea he'd ever had when he saw her night things were little more than a singlet shirt and panties. He'd just copped an unexpected eyeful and he hated himself for feeling a reaction flow through him at what he saw. _Hated _that he reacted to her at all. She hadn't moved, going back to staring at the wall, and while he was sure the thing was fucking fascinating beyond belief, he couldn't tear his eyes from her body. Milky white skin dotted with freckles was everywhere his eyes could see—firm, shapely legs, an ass tighter than an ass should be, a taut belly and breasts beneath that top that left very little to his imagination. Daryl blinked, clenched his hands into fists, and decided that he was an idiot.

"Come on, lazy bones. Time to get up." With determination he diverted his eyes and snatched up one hand as it dangled over the edge of the bed. When he attempted to pull her up, suddenly she became animated, yanking her hand out of his grasp before slapping his away.

"Go away. I don't want to get up now." She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Drawing her knees up and without a shred of ability to operate his own self-control, Daryl took another look and almost panted at the shape of her breasts under that shirt. All sorts of phrases ran through his mind, most of them said in the knowing, saccharine tones of Merle, and Daryl tore his hungry gaze away from her again.

All sense of control suddenly at vitally low levels, Daryl snapped. He grabbed her chin roughly, making sure she saw him as he hissed instructions at her. "Get up. Get dressed. Meet me outside in five minutes. You don't and I'll come back and carry you through the camp dressed in nothing but your panties and shirt. Understand?"

Her look of horror as she nodded quickly almost made his anger evaporate, but he wasn't going to let one of their own disintegrate right in front of him. He wasn't going to let her drift away until she was little more than dead. Picking up his crossbow he gave her one last look, was satisfied she was just waiting for him to leave before she got herself out of that bed, and jumped down the stairs of the RV, swinging the door closed behind him.

"Lori," he yelled, making the woman jump again as she prepared the evening meal. "Can you get me two towels?"

She raised a brow at him, waiting.

"Please?"

"Sure thing, Daryl. You gonna go ask Herschel if you can use his shower? Not saying you need one, of course…"

"Ceptin' man, do you ever need one," T-Dog cooed to a smattering of laughter around the camp, but Daryl took the towels and ignored them. Carol came out that second, looking almost frightened of the other group members before she sought him out. He jerked his head in the direction he wanted them to head, and without a word of explanation, he stalked off, just expecting her to follow.

Rick looked between them both, concern making him frown. "Daryl, it's gettin' dark," he pointed out uselessly when he saw Daryl was moving in the opposite direction of Herschel's house. "Where're you takin' Carol?"

Daryl spun on his heel, almost colliding with an unnaturally quiet and meek Carol as she was slowly catching him up. His arm stayed her in place and she waited, mute and patient for him to start leading her again.

"Not that it's anyone's business but my own, but she needs a shock to snap her out of this. I'm gonna throw her in the lake."

Rick looked shocked, torn about whether he should interfere in something that seemed to be complete madness, but he didn't say another word, just watched as Daryl took Carol's arm and led her away from camp.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N… I am overwhelmed with the response to the last chapter. You reaffirmed my faith in the twist I risked, and I feel a bit better now about doing it. Being an Aussie, it's quite a feat to try and get the characters anywhere near right, accents are a bit of a challenge, so all comments claiming I'm keeping Daryl believable is a huge compliment.

As usual, I will reply to individual reviews but just wanted to say to Guest #1—I think Carol is hot, and I'm not into women. I can't work out why the men on that show are so blind! Guest #2, I really appreciate you saying so, Daryl is definitely a challenge. Here's the next chapter and I hope it's enough to keep you on the edge of your computer chair!

So, enjoy…and let me know if you do…or don't. It's all good!

Part 12

_Sometimes the better choice is to sink rather than swim…_

Of course she'd heard Daryl tell Rick he was going to throw her in the lake, but she hadn't actually believed he'd do it. As her head broke through water and she spluttered and squealed about how cold it was, thoughts of being too tired to bear the days fell straight from her head.

She'd never been swimming with all her clothes on before, and now she knew why. The weight of them dragged her down in the water and it was using every muscle in her body to fight to keep her afloat. Distracted by the effort not to drown, she barely noticed as Daryl whipped his shirt over his head and kicked off his boots before diving neatly into the water just to the right of her. He surfaced and in the rapidly darkening day, she saw a grin on his face. Momentarily speechless, she stared. For one horrible second she forgot to breathe, and then she couldn't as she sunk again, barely closing her mouth in time before she collected a lungful of lake water.

Daryl's arms surrounded her and hefted her back from the depths to squish her against his body. Suddenly she felt like she was breathing too fast. Hyperventilating.

"I'm losin' my shoes," she admitted stupidly, drawn to the playful glint in his eyes.

Without warning he let her go, sinking against her body until she felt his hands around her legs and one shoe, then the next was tugged off her feet. He propelled himself toward the little dock and dumped her shoes on the planks, then with a firm, confident stroke, he returned to her, Carol impressed as hell.

She'd not been swimming often, not much at all since she was a child, but Daryl was looking like he partially lived in the water, and why was she surprised? She was yet to see something Daryl couldn't do if it was out in the wild, surviving walker attacks and keeping them all safe and fed. It was a tremendous burden on one man, and yet he offered her even more by looking for her little girl and trying to protect her as best he could.

"Thank you," she whispered once he returned, and she wasn't talking about her shoes. His brow crinkled in confusion. She wanted to smooth it out with her fingers but had a feeling he'd not take it well and force distance back between them instead.

"For what?" he asked, his head tipped to the side as he studied her as carefully as he would a rearing snake.

"For takin' care of me. Even when I don't realise I need it."

"Don' know what you're talkin' about. Jus' thought you'd like a swim, is all."

Carol smiled, then broke their gaze and looked around her. She couldn't see much now as the dark covered everything around them, turning their little reprieve into a secret, but she was grateful for the small amount of light that the moon gave her as it bounced against the lake's surface. She heard the ripples of the water around her and sighed. She may not see it now but she suspected this place would be beautiful in the daytime.

"You know, I didn't even realise there was a lake here. Pity we didn't bring any soap," Carol sighed wistfully, thinking what heaven a bath could have been. She felt like a month's worth of grime was glued to her skin.

Daryl smirked at her, and a burst of amusement split her lips as he struggled to free something in his pocket, kicking wildly to not sink in the water, before brandishing a brand new, wet, block of soap.

"Don't drop it 'cause I ain't gonna go searchin' for it on the bottom of the lake."

"Maybe we should go closer to the dock, then? I'll need to take some of these clothes off if this soap is going to have any impact at all." She started kicking toward the edge, trying not to go down every paddle and a half as her heavy clothes dragged against the water. She was panting by the time she made it, putting the soap carefully on the dock before taking a deep breath. Sinking immediately, Carol made quick if not panicked work of stripping her pants from her legs, feeling infinitely more buoyant the minute she dragged them up out of the water and plopped them down beside the soap. Then she removed her top, leaving the bra she'd put on before leaving the RV. Shivering a little as the cold bite of the night air settled around her shoulders, Carol turned and found it almost impossible to see Daryl properly in the dark—even with the gentle moonlight— but she found she could focus on a spot where she imagined his arms stirred the natural calm of the lake. Figuring if she couldn't see him then he likely couldn't pinpoint her, either, she took off the bra and seized the soap, scrubbing it into the fabric so she could give it a quick wash and eliminate some of the odours of summer. Feeling bold, she attempted the same with her panties, though she was keeping those on her body.

Feeling the water start to lap around her and hearing some mild splashing, Carol washed herself as much as she could before Daryl's head bumped against her hip underwater. The resulting bubbles against her skin as he breathed out and surfaced made her whole body tingle and seize in anticipation. She sucked in an aching breath and put the soap back on the dock, happy enough to tread water now that her clothes weren't dragging her to the bottom.

It was amazing what a block of soap could achieve. She felt squeaky clean and now more alert than she had all day. Having Daryl within arm's reach of her almost completely naked body was making her heart pound madly in her chest, and she was grateful for the inky darkness near the dock that hid her burning cheeks.

"Want me to scrub your back?" she offered, feeling more brazen than she ever had in her life.

He didn't reply at first and the silence was broken only by the chirp of crickets and a random frog croaking in the distance. Her hands shaking, Carol lathered the soap in her hands, dropped it against the wooden planks of the structure and reached forward, her hands landing on warm flesh. For once Daryl didn't buck away from her like a newly branded foal. Her hands skimmed over his shoulders, far too sensuous to remove any actual dirt, and realised he was still facing her.

"I need a cloth to be able to scrub the dirt off," she said, her voice soft and husky and completely unrecognisable.

"Use your shirt. You can wear mine back to camp…if you want."

Lifting herself a little so her elbows held her up on the dock, she used one hand to search her clothes for her top and then let herself slide back into the water. Lathering the cloth with the soap, she moved closer to Daryl again, anticipation making every nerve ending burn as liquid fire licked along her veins. She placed one bare hand on his shoulder, sweeping a gentle caress across his flesh and found he'd turned around, giving her his back. His shoulders were stiff against her touch. Carol remembered the hint of those scars she'd seen mar his flesh the night Andrea had shot him in the head and so she rushed to scrub his back like she'd offered, holding her breath as she tried to shift this rapidly escalating awareness back to the job in hand. She scrubbed at his neck, across his shoulders and then each arm, rinsed the shirt and re-soaped to tackle more of him. Pushing on his shoulder to indicate he should turn back to her, she scrubbed with purpose his chest, his ribs and belly.

"You want me to do your face and hair, too?" she sassed, trying to break the tension she sensed was choking the very air around them.

He took the shirt from her hands, scrubbed the filth from his face and then lathered the soap block into his hair before ducking underwater to wash it all off. Shaking his head like a newly bathed mutt, he sprayed drops of water in her face and Carol giggled, reaching out to shield herself.

"Your turn," he informed her and before she could process what he planned to do, she was yanked around and her shirt was roughly sloughing off the dirt and sweat from her back. It felt good, and Carol closed her eyes and surrendered to the sensation of someone looking after her for a change. He didn't go any further than her back and shoulders—stalling only when her lack of bra must have impacted his senses—though he took his time. Carol was just grateful for the drop in his usual guard that allowed him to do even that. She shivered against the night air, reaching one hand up to the dock to hold on and give her leg muscles a rest from the hard work of keeping her above water, and she felt the cool caress of the water against her nipples and sighed.

Daryl paused in his scrubbing motion and she could sense his awkwardness threatening the closeness this impromptu bath had provided. He didn't pull away, not yet, slowly resuming the motion of steady circles on her back and Carol wondered if he saw her as particularly dirty or if he just liked the thought of touching her, though with her shirt between them.

With a wet plop, he put her shirt up with her other clothes, and disappointment swept through her. She turned to face him and could just barely see the outline of his face. It was hard enough to read Daryl in the daylight but completely obscured by the night it was impossible.

"Are you awake now?" he asked, and despite the inflection of anger that simmered in his voice, Carol was relieved to have some insight into how he was feeling.

"Completely," she answered brightly, wanting so much to regain the playful mood of before.

"You're stronger than you think," he informed her, moving a little closer in the dark. "Don't make me do this again."

Longing tripped up her spine, making her whole body burst into life. "Which part?" Her voice, she knew, was too husky as she drifted a tiny bit closer, feeling his warm breath now as it huffed against her cheek. "Just askin', 'cause this bathing thing? I'd be happy enough for that to happen again. Only, maybe next time warn me and I'll strip before you throw me in."

Gauntlet thrown, Carol held her breath to see what he would do next, and when he didn't do anything after several seconds of intense anticipation, she curled her palm around his neck, pulled him against her and with an accuracy that shocked her in the dark, she put her lips against his.

If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that sitting around waiting for a little girl to wake up and tell him where the fuck his baby brother was last she'd seen him, was boring as batshit. Merle had paced around the cramped space like he was ready to do some damage to Milton, and the nerdy scientist jumped every time he stepped too close. Merle thought it might have been the best entertainment he'd had since he'd been firmly ensconced in Woodbury. That, and the extremely well kept library that surprisingly still existed in the town. Not that he let anyone know that he visited the quaint little space—especially not the old dragon that stood over it like she owned the place. He couldn't let these pricks know he was any more than a dumbass redneck or they'd start thinking he was capable of thinking shit through and making decisions on his own. Decisions like picking up a stray girl, bitten and fevered, and taking her back to possibly the only chance of a cure there was around the place.

She coughed, and Merle fought against running to her side. He was already aware that Milton was suspicious of him and there was no way he was going to give the little shit more clues. If the Governor got wind of the little girl's connection to his brother then Merle knew she'd be removed from his sight. Even he wasn't so hardened that the thought of wiping out a kid to contain loyalty didn't make his gut clench with disgust.

"She seems cooler," Milton said, almost to himself. The scientist was busily scribbling away in his notebook, keeping strict notes on every response and development of his treatment for the little girl. Merle had noticed the look in the Governor's eye as he'd watched the kid, his interest in the success of this experiment making his expression almost desperate and it had to make a guy like Merle wonder—what was in it for him? The Governor didn't do anything that wasn't going to benefit him somehow and he'd never hung over the other experiments with quite this level of zeal.

He suspected. He'd seen the picture of the man's family in pride of place over the Governor's fireplace, had seen how he stared at it intently and the small tell-tale glance he'd give to the door they were all forbidden to go near, let alone turn the fucking knob. Merle had been confronted with some scary shit since ending up in this town, but he had a feeling that whatever was behind that door might make even his blood run cold.

"What do you think she was doing out there on her own?" Milton asked, struggling to appear off-hand and not as interested as Merle knew he was. Merle _knew _the scientist was almost busting a gut with curiosity, thinking he was much smarter than dumb'ol' Merle and he'd be able to trick the redneck's interest in the girl out of him.

Merle smirked, knowing he'd win against this idiot in a game of mind-fuck every day of the fucking week.

"Fuck if I know," he replied with a lewd rub to his groin.

Milton flushed bright red and turned back to his patient, becoming clumsy now that he'd been thoroughly unsettled by such crudeness and profanity.

"Per-perhaps she was with her family and got lost?"

Merle didn't sense any real concern in the man's voice, just academic curiosity and it was all he could do not to slam his teeth down his throat. He may have been high most of the time he'd been in that camp, but he remembered this little girl. Remembered her timid nature around big men and how she'd cringe away from her father whenever the dickweed would try to pull her into line—a line she'd never crossed as far as Merle could tell. He remembered her mousy mother, too, though not quite as clearly as the kid. Enough to know she'd made herself as unattractive as any bitch could—probably in a misguided attempt to keep the violent asshole's hands off her. That pansy-assed fucker might have wanted to beat her into the ground but Merle doubted that as desperate for pussy as he probably was, he'd never want to fuck someone that looked that butch, no matter that she was his wife.

"An' maybe she was out for a Sunday stroll. Any point to this? You're wastin' my air."

Before the geek could respond, the door opened and the Governor was before them, a pathetic eagerness plainly visible as he made his way to the girl.

"What is her status, Milton?"

Academic pride surged through him and he rushed to fill in his boss. "She's well past the normal timeframe to turn," he confirmed, snapping up his notebook in case he was asked for anything scientifically particular. Not that it had ever happened yet, but he liked to be prepared.

"Ass kisser," Merle said to himself under his breath. He was just close enough to hear the report but far enough away to stay to the side of the Governor's focus. It was the way he liked it. He could act sincere when he needed to, but it was hell on a man's nerves—especially when the one receiving the act was more than a little touched by his very active God complex.

"I flushed the wound, excised some of the dead flesh, gave her antibiotics and wrapped her in ice." He stopped, gave Merle a nervous, side-long glance and then leaned conspiratorially into the Governor. "I gave her five doses of the…concoction. She hasn't woken again, but…I think she's going to make it," he predicted, and his voice was filled with awe.

"Do you think it would work on someone already infected?" the Governor asked, desperation evident by the way he stared at the girl and clenched his hands into fists that he rested on the edge of the table where she lay.

"Oh no, sir, I'm afraid not," Milton admitted, his tone careful in its regret. "It's designed to attack the weakening of the body toward death. The…condition already exists within us all, so the key is to prevent infection setting in. It can't reverse what death has already achieved."

Merle watched the Governor's jaw harden and cold hatred settle in his eyes. A pulse in his forehead started pumping violently and Merle stood up straighter, preparing for a fight should one be about to present itself.

"This experiment is over," the Governor said, his voice flat and chilly. "Milton, withdraw the treatment. Merle, dispose of her outside the town. I don't want any of our residents knowing she was here." He turned and contemplated Merle and so the rough and ready opportunist nodded and smiled, his eyes as cold as his leader's.

"Consider it done."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N…Not much to say this time. Just a big hello to you all and a thank you to those who review. You all make my day shine a little brighter! I'll answer reviews from the last chapter in a bit, want to get a jumpstart on the next one. This fic is still evolving, more ideas coming to me every day. Hope you enjoy this one! ~~ Megan

Part 13

_When Sanctuary is a place filled with monsters…_

As he hid his bag in the trunk and settled several guns out of sight in the front seat, Merle was glad for the brains he'd been blessed with that had had him preparing to leave this town for as long as he had. As far as he'd wheedled his way into the boss's good graces—became the Governor's right hand hacksaw—he knew it was only a matter of time before he'd have to leave and take his chances on his own. He'd never been averse to taking what he needed from those too weak to defend themselves, but when he'd been asked to kill the few survivors that were left in order to take everything they had, his conscience had struggled. He wasn't averse to taking whatever supplies he found, but everyone deserved a chance to survive these days. He pulled his shots as much as he could allow without getting caught, but sometimes he had killed, showing his loyalty and ruthless persona whenever he felt it was needed.

The second he'd seen that little girl stumble right out in front of his vehicle, and then recognised her as one of the few kids from the quarry camp, he knew his time left in Woodbury was limited. He could have left her to die in the road, using her location as a clue and started his search for Daryl straight away, but he didn't think he'd make it very far if his brother was still attached to the Atlanta group and Merle let slip how he'd found them. Besides, didn't seem right to let a little girl die alone on the road. He knew Milton had been cooking up all sorts of experiments, and if anyone had half a chance to know what to do with her, it'd be him.

And Merle hadn't been disappointed. The wily little brown-noser had come through after all, bringing the girl back from the brink of death. He stood over her now, and Merle's gut clenched, striding faster to reach him and make sure the scientist wasn't trying to kill her before he was able to get her out of there. Up close, Merle could see the conflict his conscience had created. Milton wasn't a bad man, Merle knew, just too terrified of the Governor to be disloyal, no matter what the cost. Even if that cost was a little girl's life.

"You're really going to take her out there and kill her?"

He'd been there the same time as Merle when the order had been issued, and Merle wasn't about to let the pussy know he wasn't going to do anything to this kid except use her to help find his brother, but he had to act tough, be the Governor's man, and leave this place without any suspicion aimed his way.

"You heard the Governor. You wouldn't be suggestin' I mutiny over a slip of a girl, would ya?" he cackled nastily, eyeing the scientist with contempt. "You got bigger balls than me, little man."

Merle scooped her up into his arms, and she stirred, moaning quietly as she turned her face into his chest and went back to sleep. Merle froze, concerned anew she might wake up and spill something she shouldn't, as well as how comfy she was getting as he carried her out of there. He avoided Milton's troubled gaze as he left, looking carefully to make sure no one was out during curfew to see them. He carried her to the car that he always used to do the Governor's dirty work, relieved the man himself had refrained from coming down and giving him a personal and private send-off.

Merle laid her across the back seat, haphazardly draping a blanket over her body before slamming the door and quickly sliding into the driver's seat. It had been prearranged for someone on guard duty to open the gates and let him out, and he gave a casual salute as he steered out of the town, barely breathing until he heard the gate clang shut behind him and he gunned the accelerator.

Biters veered into his path and he just knocked them out of his way with the car, driving intently until he was a distance from the town and about to join the main road. A movement in the rearview mirror made him grin and he chuckled.

"You can sit up now, kid. We're safe enough for now."

Sophia slowly sat up, her face a pasty shade of pale, a sheen of sweat breaking out on her top lip and forehead, and her eyes wild with fear.

"You're that man that used to shout and cuss a lot when we were at the quarry. The one that didn't come back when they found Carl's dad in Atlanta."

Merle's lips thinned as he reigned in his temper. Leaving him on that roof was a sore point, and as the memory played in his brain he tapped his stump angrily on the steering wheel. There was a whole lot he could say on the subject, but somehow he didn't think it would do anything but scare the girl.

"Are you gonna kill me?"

Without thinking he slammed on the brakes, hanging on like hell when the car fishtailed. Struggling one-handed to straighten it on the road, he was aware of the kid being thrown around in the back and he grit his teeth together, silently relieved when the car finally came to a stop and the smell of burnt rubber teased at his nostrils. Slamming the car into park, Merle twisted around in his seat and glared at the girl.

She'd shrunk up against the back corner, her hand squeezing the door handle and Merle realised she was about to bolt. As weak as she was, he knew how much fear could compel a person when they were on the run. She didn't have to be afraid—at least, not of dying by his hand—and Merle knew it.

"Not gonna kill ya," he admitted roughly. "Fact is, I saved your walker ass. You an' me are gonna find my brother and your mamma, if that's alright with you?"

She stared at him with her big, blue eyes and after a few beats, she finally nodded, relaxing against the door.

"You wanna ride up front?" He patted the seat when she nodded, but then thought better of it when she went to get out of the car. "No. Can you climb through? There's walkers outside."

She looked out the window, terror making her breath ragged as the first walker pounced on the car, making her squeal. With little evidence of how close to dying she'd been, she dived across the middle of the car and sat in the passenger seat, snapping the seatbelt in place and panting with fear as two more walkers descended on the car.

Merle shifted back into drive and on they went, leaving geeks chasing slowly after them with no hope of ever catching up.

"So," he said after an awkward silence. "Where's your daddy? Why isn't that asswipe out searchin' for ya?"

"How do you know he isn't?" she snapped back at him and he chuckled.

"You're a sassy little thing, ain't ya? Believe me, girly, I know. I'd've seen if someone was out there lookin' for ya."

She nodded, her shoulders hunched and her eyes focused on her hands that sat stiffly in her lap. It was hard to see the expression on her face as they drove through the dark. "He's dead. And Amy, Jim…others. Daryl went back with Rick and T-Dog and Glen to get you. T-Dog said he chained the door so the walkers couldn't get to you, so they thought you'd still be alive," she said. "Walkers attacked the camp before they got back and my Dad was in the tent. He…wasn't feelin' right." She shrugged, like losing her daddy wasn't high on her list of things to grieve over.

"Well, shit." Merle thought about what she'd said, knowing for sure Daryl would have gone back but a little surprised the black prick would have dared show his face after dropping that key down the drain. He barely spared a thought for all those that perished in the camp. Wasn't like it was his fault. He was too busy trying to survive after being forced to cut off his own damn hand.

They travelled in silence for a time, Merle darting quick looks to the side to check she wasn't about to turn when he wasn't watching, but her eyes remained glued to the road and her body sat stiffly beside him.

"So, what was ya doin' out on the road all alone? Is your mamma dead, too?"

Her hands clenched into fists and she ignored him. Then, when the quiet stretched too long for even her nerves, she decided to start asking questions of her own.

"How am I not a walker? I know I had the fever, just like Jim did when we left him." She was watching him through narrowed eyes, narrowed because of the dark he suspected and he grinned.

"You believe in magic?"

"Not even a little bit," she sassed back and he chuckled, enjoying having the kid along a whole lot more than he'd ever thought he could.

"Back at Woodbury, dull as ditch water scientist type does experiments. Thought if you had any kind of chance, he'd be the one to make it happen. Abracadabra, an' here you is, lookin' for all the world like shit but far from dead." Mirth was a wonderful thing, Merle was discovering. He hadn't felt so good in months.

"You think maybe you found me for a reason?" Sophia asked and he contemplated the question with a seriousness he didn't employ often.

"You mean, like did God drop you in my lap so you could help me find my baby brother?" He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, rolling the idea around in his head.

"Or my falling in front of the only car in the world that could have taken me to someone who could stop me becoming a walker," she stated boldly.

"Looks like we both had a good reason to find each other. Maybe it was God, or maybe jus' dumb luck. Ain't no difference to me."

"I…I just thought…if God led me to you so you could help me get cured…maybe He didn't hate me for praying for Daddy to die."

Merle's eyes snapped to hers, an impressed grin on his lips. "Well ain't you a bloodthirsty little bitch."

Her eyes went wide and she flattened herself against the door. "I just wanted him to stop hurting my mom," she cried and Merle could have kicked himself for making the kid cry.

"I'm thinkin' that daddy o' yours got 'xactly what he deserved. Don't go losin' your water over it. What's yer name, anyway?"

She sniffled and shot an irritated glare at him. "You don't remember my name?" she accused, voice haughty , snapping from tears to temper in two seconds flat.

"Rememberin' names wasn' high on any of my priority lists," he admitted, sheepish. Her shoulders raised in a slow shrug and Merle took a good look at her, frowning when he saw the exhaustion settling around her mouth and her drooping eyes. He slowed the car to a stop, reached over the back to snag the blanket left there, and gently tucked it around her. "You best get some sleep, little lady. You can grant me the privilege of knowin' your name when you wake up."

Her eyes were already closed as she snuggled into the blanket—a big, fancy crocheted one he'd found in one of those dressers many of the houses and apartments in Woodbury had. This one had a splash of pink and he was damned if he could think of why he'd thieved it in the first place, but now, seeing it settled around the girl's shoulders, he figured maybe he'd somehow known all along.

Before she fell completely into unconsciousness, perhaps jolted as he pushed the car back into drive, she opened one lazy eye and focused on him, though he could tell he must be little more than a swimming image in her sleepiness.

"Sophia," she said, then, as if the effort of that one word had sapped every energy cell in her body, she slumped against the seat and slept.

Merle nodded, the name ringing a few bells now that he'd heard it again. Sophia. He remembered now the softness of her mamma's voice as she'd say that name and guide her daughter away from the sack of shit that was her daddy. The fool did little else but sit on his ass smoking cigarettes all day long and staring daggers at his wife while she worked to put food on his plate and keep his clothes clean. Merle had been waiting for the prick's supply to run short because he was just itching to see the lazy prick go on a run to get some more. He knew withdrawal would make the guy twitchy, probably resulting in an escalation of the violence toward the wife—and Merle had just been waiting for a legitimate reason to put the sonovabitch on his ass. If there was one thing Merle knew intimately—other than the fairer sex—it was withdrawal, and he knew that woman and her kid wouldn't be safe once the ciggies ran out. But then he'd popped his own little high and got himself locked up on that roof and it had all gone to shit. Didn't mean he didn't feel a measure of satisfaction that good old Ed had come to a fitting end. He just hoped his little brother had been there to spear his brains and make that death stick.

A quick glance to his side to check she was still breathing had Merle release a relieved sigh. He wasn't keen on Jesus's methods more than half the time—losing his hand being the one he struggled with the most—but for the most part he was solid with the plan. He'd survived being left alone and at the mercy of those biters straining at that door to flood onto the roof and make him a fresh meal. He'd survived being saved by a lunatic like the Governor, adapting to be his lieutenant so he'd always be one step ahead of everyone else, and now he'd been delivered the one best chance of finding his little brother—a little miracle of her own. Yeah, he might struggle a little with the directive, but he couldn't deny that when he'd needed them to, the solutions had come to him. Couldn't deny that Jesus had his back—even a screwed up, drug-addled motherfucker like him.

He had no doubt he'd find his brother—he was just unsure about what else he'd find.

Carol had barely slept the night before. Not surprising, really, when she'd slept away the entire day. Wanted to sleep what was left of her life away until Daryl had appeared like some mythical knight in dirt and sweat and threw her into the lake. She was sure it was the best wakeup call any girl could have received, and the kiss she'd planted on him before she'd run scared had all the makings of her very own fairytale.

Her heart thudded painfully every time she relived the kiss. His lips had been so warm against the chill of the water and his skin had burned against her hand as she'd skimmed shaking fingers up his neck to tangle in his hair. He'd smelled fresh and earthy and reminded her with an earth-shattering certainty what it was like to be attracted to a real man—something she'd banished from her life many years before when Ed had become ugly and started to paint a canvas of colourful bruises on her flesh.

His hands had never touched her, his lips remaining mostly immobile and when he uttered the smallest whimper against her that sounded too much like some kind of pain, she'd darted away and ran, somehow managing to find most of her clothes in the dark and taking him up on the offer of his shirt. She'd run back to camp with her cheeks burning, her stomach swirling with a frenzied butterfly fight that would put kick boxers in a ring to shame, and an ambition to hide from Daryl for the rest of her natural life.

But as she'd lain in bed that night, completely unable to sleep, she relived that kiss until it was _burned_ in her heart. Relived those moments of them bathing together, and hoped that she hadn't managed to scare him completely away.

Rick knew he should be appreciating the relaxing sounds of breakfast. They were all gathered together like family, sharing the first meal of the day around the campfire, everyone safe and with food in their bellies. Carol looked more nervous than usual, he noticed, seeing her fill Daryl's plate with eggs before going back to the fire to make up some more. She hadn't looked at the man and just barely managed to tip the pan in the direction of the plate before she was racing off, Daryl swearing under his breath at the dregs of eggs that missed the plate and fell in his lap instead. Something was up with those two, and he knew it had stemmed from the dumping she'd had at the lake, but when Carol had returned looking fresh and clean and sporting Daryl's shirt, he'd thought maybe something else had come of it. Daryl's attempts to catch her eye and her refusal to give in made Rick suspect something entirely different must have happened and he was slowly heading to the conclusion that he'd have to step in and take the redneck to task for upsetting a grieving mother.

He clenched his jaw, knowing that anyone that looked at him right now might get the impression he was burning inside with anger, and they wouldn't be straying too far from the truth. But as he skipped over the Carol and Daryl show, and skimmed over his wife as she helped their recovering son with his breakfast, his eyes drifted past their camp and settled on Hershel's old farmhouse. He could see Maggie on the porch in the distance, shaking her head, and he wondered what that was about. Was she looking at their camp and getting steamed that they were still on her father's land? Rick knew Herschel wanted them gone, seeing them as a nuisance now he'd finished his good deed and patched up Carl, but he also knew that Herschel was at heart a good man. A God-fearing man and if he really knew what life was like out on the road, he wouldn't be so quick to push them back out amongst it.

The plate in his hand came back into focus and Rick dragged in a shaky breath. Life was so precarious now—they'd already lost Sophia so stupidly, carelessly. He'd almost lost his own son and no matter how relieved Rick was that Carl had made it through, he couldn't help feel the guilt lodge deep in his soul that he'd not been able to protect Sophia for Carol. One little girl and he'd been so completely useless and now, on the edge of being kicked off the farm for good, he recognised how very helpless he was to save all these people.

He'd just have to fight harder, Rick decided, scooping up the last of his eggs and wishing for a few more grains of salt to flavour it. There were no options back out on the road. Lori and Carl would be at risk wherever they went and Shane was a loose cannon, and the rest of them had already lost too much to go back out there and lose some more. He'd just have to convince Herschel that they could be useful, that they could…

"Everybody?" Glenn's voice cut through the calm, leisurely breakfast and everyone stopped chewing for a moment to listen to him. Taking centre-stage was something the young pizza-runner had never really attempted before, but as Rick watched him fidget nervously before all their eyes, Glenn took a deep breath and blew a massive hole in their newly safe world.

"The barn is full of walkers."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N… So, without being explicit, I've delved into some spoilers for the rest of the season and I feel slightly heartbroken. :( I know there isn't a whole lot of action in this fic—hoping that doesn't put you all off. I'm working on trying to get a little stockpile of chapters up as it's my birthday next week and as a mini celebration, I was thinking of posting a few chapters (Yes, I DO mean 3 as that is one of my lucky numbers. Y'all ain't getting 9 of them!)…but…would you prefer one a day for three days, three in one go? Or some other combination I hadn't thought of yet?**

Part 14

_Forgiving is the first step to forgetting…_

Shane felt a bubble of rage surge behind his eyes and explode in his head as he started pacing, breaking away suddenly from the camp and striding furiously to the barn.

"Walkers in the barn," he said under his breath, dirt kicked up by his boots as he ran the rest of the way to the building. "Walkers in the fucking barn," he screamed in rage, stopping at the heavily secured doors and looking through the small gap. The view was narrow, but it was enough. Enough to see that Herschel was so misguided about this new threat on the world that he'd loaded the barn up with the very thing that could wipe them all out in a heartbeat. Could viciously tear his family apart before they'd even known to arm themselves, because _Herschel _demanded they not carry weapons on the farm. _Herschel _didn't feel safe with so many armed people walking around his land. The irony nearly made Shane choke.

A clouded eye appeared a nose away from him, and Shane jumped back with a shudder of revulsion. The doors bowed forward as an untold number of walkers pushed against it, smelling his flesh, sensing the blood that thundered through his veins. His muscles taut, Shane automatically reached for the gun normally in his holster at his hip and he felt like smashing something when his hand came up empty and he was reminded once again why it was missing.

The others had followed him down, now crowding around him while he struggled to control his temper.

"This ain't right, Rick," he screamed, panic causing his voice to rise. "You know this ain't right."

"I know it ain't," Rick agreed, concerned, his hand reaching out to his best friend in a useless effort to calm him down. "I'll talk to Herschel. I'll sort this out, Shane."

A haze of fury swept through him and Shane ignored most of what Rick said. He wouldn't be pacified in this. He hadn't gone through hell at the school, near busted up his ankle escaping through a window, _murdering _a man—a good man—to keep Carl and the rest of them safe for some blindass idiot like Farmer Joe to come along and put out the welcome mat for walkers. His eyes blurred as he looked about the group—Carl and Lori had needed him from the start, T-dog and Andrea and Glenn and even Dale, though the old son of a bitch grated on his every last nerve. And Carol, he thought maybe she needed him the most. Woman had lost her girl and there was another failure Shane could place at his door. He'd been clowning around with all that water they'd found on the Interstate when he should have been keeping a better eye on the situation—making sure the children and Lori were safe. He knew better than to turn his back on this world and indulge in a little fun. Now one of their group was gone—one of the young ones that gave them all so much hope for the future—and it was all Shane could do to keep himself the fuck together.

She caught his eye and instead of the fear that he'd half expected from her, she smiled at him with something he thought he recognised as approval and without warning, the effects of his anger dissipated. The memories of that night with Otis seemed to flood his head and with a jolt that nearly knocked him on his ass, he knew that what he'd done really had been the right decision, for the good of the group. He was sorry for Patricia—ached for the pain his actions had caused and wished he could make it up to her without revealing what a murderous asshole he was—but there was nothing to be done for it now and as he looked over Lori and Carl, then looked at Andrea, Carol and the others, he realised that maybe he wasn't just about saving Rick's family. Maybe the rest of them were his to keep safe and that he didn't really have to change unless he let it happen. Dale's wiseass speeches about keeping their humanity if nothing else played heavily on him and he grunted in acknowledgement that the old man might have a point, though he wasn't going to admit that to him anytime soon. Carol stood strong, watching him carefully but with that sense of _confidence_ he'd received from her right from the start. He breathed in deep, tried to centre himself, then nodded to her in thanks.

While Rick stalked off to confront Herschel, Shane did his own stalking, straight to the bag of guns. This passive shit stopped now, he decided. He was going to keep this group safe and if that meant going a little nuts, well, they'd all just have to accept that. His gun seemed to fall out of the bag into his hand and he sighed like it had been a long time away from a loved one. The others were milling around outside, still probably in shock about having danger so close and unsure what was really going to happen about it, and Shane stood in the RV and breathed deeply through his nose, his hands braced against the table.

He closed his eyes and shuddered as flashes played through his mind of that final safe night they'd all sat around the campfire, feasting on fish amidst efforts to reclaim some of the joy of their former lives. The screams of Amy blasted through him now as he relived the scene of devastation— the walker that had taken chunks out of her arm and neck as they'd stared on helplessly. There'd been nothing any of them could have done. He knew no one blamed him for not being able to save half their camp, and as his shaking hand brushed against the gun bag, he could finally admit that Rick had been right to go back and get it. Rick had been right to abandon the group so soon after joining it—to go save Merle, undeserving asshole that he was, to get the bag of guns that gave them more chance at survival long term. And while the loss of Amy and so many of the others—Jim—stirred a sense of hopelessness and loss within him, Shane grunted in satisfaction that Ed Peletier had at least been slaughtered, leaving his wife and daughter without a protector. Not that Shane could remember even one second of that bastard making any effort to keep his family safe. He'd been a mean, abusive shitsack and he got what he deserved. Shane refused to feel sorry for that. He doubted Sophia's fate would have been any different even if her daddy had still been around. He couldn't see Ed doing a damn thing to search for that girl. Going out and scouring the woods, returning looking like hell with an arrow in the side and a graze to the side of his head for his trouble like Daryl Dixon? Hell no. He'd have given his own daughter up the second those walkers had run after her.

He'd spent all this time pushing every last one of them out, refusing to feel the pain that his training, his _best fucking effort _was useless in the face of this epidemic. The dead came at them from all sides, but they'd thought they were safe here, on this farm. Herschel had tricked them into believing the lie, his pretty daughters living the good life and still so very innocent to the truths of what went on past their fences and gates. _He'd_ thought he was a good man, until he'd murdered Otis in order to save Carl. The weight of his burden seemed heavier than usual and Shane felt his legs buckle, setting him hard on his ass on the floor. He knew he was losing it, and it scared him. He had all these people whose lives were on him—he couldn't afford to lose his shit. If he did, what did they have? Rick? Rick was too busy kissing ass to keep them on this farm to do what really needed to be done. Daryl? Begrudgingly, Shane admitted the redneck was a hell of a lot more than originally met the eye and he was impressed as hell how much the guy took onto himself without even seeming to. He could see the thing developing with Carol—and could see how much Rick was starting to depend on him in the absence of Shane's usual levelheadedness. Resented it, but understood it for the strange kind of sense that it was. But being their leader? It was a responsibility Shane already knew Daryl wouldn't want. He'd be happy higher in the hierarchy, but could they depend on him if the shit truly hit the fan? Shane didn't think so.

He was torn abruptly from his introspection as footsteps just barely rocked the RV and suddenly Carol was kneeling next to him on the floor.

"Are you okay?"

He couldn't quite tell if he nodded his head yes or shook it no, not quite sure anymore exactly how he was.

"It's all right to have a weak moment," she said, her smile soft and forgiving and this time he did nod, sucking in a surprised breath when her index finger reached out and swiped away a tear from his cheek he hadn't even known was there. "I never thanked you for what you did…back at the quarry."

His eyes widened in shock, knowing that was one of his first episodes of losing his self-control and surprised she could be grateful for it when he knew she'd been terrified of retribution from Ed later. When everyone else in the camp had condemned him as an asshole as much as Ed. "Ain't a good man that needs to beat up on a woman," he said, acknowledging her words and trying to explain something of the violence away.

"And Lori had hurt you," Carol admitted quietly and Shane stared at her dumbfounded.

"She had a right," he admitted, realising it for truth even though it ripped his guts out. "I told her Rick was dead."

"Did you know he wasn't?"

He couldn't believe she wasn't judging him, kneeling beside him on the floor of the RV and watching him like she was concerned for him.

"'Course not. There was an explosion and the monitors shut off." Shane's voice was strangled, remembering the pain of that moment when he'd thought his best friend had died right in front of his eyes. "I couldn't hear his heart beatin' anymore. Had my ear to his chest and there was nothing. I had to get out and go save them. He was my best friend," Shane admitted, his voice breaking with emotion. Carol reached for his hand and squeezed it between both of hers.

"You did the right thing, Shane." She waited until he sniffled, looked up and got caught in her gaze, her eyes soft and smiling with forgiveness. "It's not so uncommon in war for people to take comfort in others. Lori and you…it was natural for you to be together. You'd both lost someone you loved—or thought you had. I know you hurt now that Lori has turned her back on you, but that's a decision she had to make. You know that, right?" She paused, feeling reassured when he answered her with a tight-lipped dip of his head. She knew he wasn't angry—that emotion was choking his voice as well as shock that she not only knew about their relationship but that she dared to speak of it. He blinked rapidly, trying to hold in the tears he'd never wept for everything he'd lost. "There is still more for you in this world, Shane. You need to let go of this anger. Need to let go of the pain and make Rick your friend again. You'll never have Lori back, even if Rick died. It would never be the same as it was before. It wasn't love, Shane. It was survival but that doesn't mean you care about them any less." She took a deep breath and stared down at their hands. "You need to move past this before it eats you alive." Carol raised her eyes, pinning him with an intense look. "We need you."

Shane broke her gaze, ran a shaking hand over his closely cropped cut and chuckled. "You're quite a woman, you know that?"

Her expression was filled with wonder and he suddenly realised that she didn't know that at all, she hadn't had any idea she was more than a beaten down housewife who was entertainment for the likes of Ed Peletier. If the son of a bitch was still in camp Shane thought he might pummel him all over again. He pushed himself to his feet and dragged her up with him, wrapping her in a brusque hug.

"Thank you," he whispered against her ear, then left the RV, leaving her with a small smile curving her lips.

He couldn't move from in front of the barn. As the group slowly followed Shane, the frantic moans of the accumulated dead inside grew as they sensed their food source wandering away. Daryl watched as the group threw concerned glances to the barn as they moved closer to their camp. He wished he was with them, feeling the gargle of the feral creatures penetrating him to his very bones, but without any consultation, he was stuck on watch while Rick raced off to be the diplomat and Shane tore off like he had a herd on his tail. When he threw himself into the RV, Daryl figured the bag of guns would be out and Shane would be claiming back his own piece, at the very least.

And he'd watched Carol follow after him and didn't know how to react to that.

He didn't know how to react to anything when it came to that woman.

Daryl reached back and gripped his crossbow, relishing the steady weight of it against his back before deciding it would be better in his hands and swung into his secure grip. He took a seat in the dirt and focused his gaze on the barn doors, feeling a rush of fear spike up his spine and through the back of his head. There were walkers in there; Sophia was a walker. They hadn't found her. Someone on this farm had collected walkers like they were game pieces, and stowed them in there, too close to the life that had moved on around them. Could they have found Sophia and enclosed her in that dark building, to be fed whatever the fuck Herschel and his family had been feeding them? Daryl quickly scanned the farm—cows, chickens—no fucking end to live meat to keep his ailing family fed.

Rage erupted inside him and Daryl effortlessly jumped to his feet, walking up to the doors and then spinning and walking back to where he'd recently been sitting. He felt so useless, so confused, and in so much _pain _that his vision blurred and he couldn't see straight. He was all tied up in emotional knots and they were so tight he didn't have a hope of undoing them. It was all he could do to go through the motions of the day—eat his breakfast Carol had served him half over his pants, doing an impromptu watch duty without being asked, keeping his shit together when the taste of her on his lips came blisteringly fast to his mind.

She'd not stayed. She'd kissed him lightly on the lips, like she was used to doing it every longass day, and then she'd hauled herself up onto the deck, gathered her clothes in the darkness and left, his eyes goggling at the flash of tit she probably thought he couldn't see in the less than full moonlight and his heart throbbing like a schoolboy being kissed by his first crush.

He didn't know what to do about it. Was she thanking him for forcing her out of her funk or was she teasing him, trying to make him lose his mind faster than the usual perils of their lives so surely could achieve? All he knew for certain was that he'd _liked _it, and that knowledge shocked him to his boots.

He'd never been kissed by a good woman before—out of gratitude or anything else. He'd done his share of kissing, of course, but his usual fare was something he could rustle up to scratch an itch and not someone he wanted to get too close to. He wasn't Merle. Antibiotics cost money—money he'd rather squirrel away for a rainy day than to address a burning in his dick. He had enough history disfiguring him, and as little action as his lower body might have participated in over the years, at least he knew it wasn't diseased and wasn't going to fall off for the sake of some pussy.

But the truth was, it took effort to let anyone close—took courage to defy the lessons of his life. That he wasn't much to look at, wasn't much to impress. That the only one who cared a shit about him was now handless and _dead, _or handless and friendless in a world you couldn't survive while on your own. It wasn't like Merle to trust people, either, so Daryl knew for a fact that if Merle was still out there, he'd be playing whatever game he needed to in order to survive, but if he'd made it out of Atlanta, bleeding and weak, then he was an even tougher son of a bitch than Daryl had ever given him credit.

Carol was pushing past his boundaries, ones he'd erected a lifetime ago to protect himself from the evil shit some people felt the need to inflict, and over time he'd learned that an uncomplicated life was a good life. No connections meant less pain and it was the kind of life he'd needed to clear his head of everything that had shaped him. No, she wasn't pushing, she was shoving, and for the first time he could remember, he hadn't shoved back. As the memory of that kiss and what it may or may not have meant burned into his brain, he wondered if maybe he'd made a mistake not making any kind of decision on that at all.

His body knew she was coming before he heard her soft footfalls in the dirt, and his heartbeat raced accordingly. They hadn't been alone since the night before at the lake, and now he was half afraid she'd kiss him again, kiss him out in the open in the light of day—kiss him in front of the group where it would make it real and a decision that he'd failed to make.

His back stiffened as he felt her behind him, and instead of turning to face her like any normal person would, he cursed himself an idiot and stared transfixed at the barn doors. She battered hard at the wall he was helplessly trying to reinforce around himself, pushing her presence into him as she stepped around his body, turned her back on the threat of the barn and looked innocently into his face. As a peace offering, she held out a cup of water and gave him a smile that he suspected was as warm as the water. His hand jerked against the cup, his knuckles bumping into hers and he winced as a strangled "thanks," tumbled past his lips.

With her offering now gone, Carol wrapped her arms around herself and then stood beside him, nervous eyes scanning the barn.

"Have you thought…" She took a deep breath and squeezed her hands around her arms, her gaze turning from a curious perusal to a stony glare. "Have you thought that Sophia could be in there?"

How the fuck she always did it—read this thoughts and fears—was something only she knew, but Daryl wished she wasn't so in tune with him, especially on this.

"Yeah," he admitted, feeling a ball of regret, rage, _pain _shred at his insides at the thought of that little girl, now a monster, possibly hiding all this time right beneath their noses.

She stepped closer and he could feel her body shaking as her arm brushed up against his. It was one of those moments where a normal man would have tugged her into his body, splaying his arms around her and holding her close, giving that sense of safety that, while her daughter might be behind those doors, she was not and he was going to fight to make sure such a fate never befell her. Daryl wasn't a normal man, however, and the best he could do was imagine the scene in his head and wish he had the courage, the _balls _to embrace her and tell her it would be all right.

"Shane's gonna shoot this shit up," he told her, knowing it as the one certainty in this whole mess. "Don't want you here when that goes down."

It was a huge admission on his part, though he'd been as roundabout with an admission as anyone could be. They'd agreed from the start she should be there when he found Sophia, so she could say goodbye in whatever way she saw fit before they had to take care of the threat, but suddenly, with the possibility closer than it had been in days, he didn't want that for her. He didn't want her to see a monster in place of her little girl. She knew Sophia was dead, they all knew it, but that didn't mean she had to remember anything beyond the girl she'd raised for twelve brutal years. Her memories were tainted enough with Ed being half of her life for that time; she didn't need to see her girl as a nightmare-inducing tale of horror as well.

Carol's hand was suddenly against his one that held the crossbow at his side, her fingers sliding against his flesh and causing all kinds of foreign reactions to flutter throughout his body. She squeezed a finger and he could feel the tension in her through that one small gesture.

"Okay."

And then she was gone, walking back to camp and leaving him to guard the barn.


	15. Chapter 15

AN…Firstly, I just want to say that I know The Morning After Pill does not produce an abortion. Please don't flame me for the opinion of the WD characters. Secondly, this is my birthday week and I'm feeling generous. My plan had been to post 3 chapters, possibly in one day, but as Rae is the ONLY person who expressed an opinion, I'm going to do one a day until I feel like that's enough—but at least three. Depends on if I manage to write anymore this week. I am utterly devastated by yesterday's episode so I've written a Merle piece. It started out as a platonic Merle/Carol thing but it didn't stay that way. At this point it's a one shot, but as anything else, it could become more. Caryl is my ship of choice, but I truly do love Merle as well. Anyway, if you're interested, I plan to post that hopefully within the next hour. Thank you everyone who has stuck by this story so far…I have no idea how long it is going to go on for but I don't see the end in sight yet!

Part 15

The tension in the camp was stifling. Carol looked around at everyone, eyes focused on their current tasks, no one with the time to look up at _her, _the husbandless, childless woman who put on a brave face every day and helped them to keep themselves together. Carol didn't mind, but sometimes she felt lonelier than she ever had as an abused wife—when she'd been too afraid to speak too loud, to talk to her neighbours, to breathe in case it set Ed off and she fell victim to another of his frenzied self-hate sessions. Or, at least, that was her amateur psychology talking. It was the only way for her to reconcile herself to the fact that she'd stayed with an ugly, cold, bully of a man who'd started to contemplate his own daughter in a way not fitting for a father to do. No, he had to have hated himself and took it out on her, otherwise how could she have been so _wrong _when choosing her life mate?

Carol turned to watch Lori, the brunette vigorously scrubbing some shirts in a tub while she instructed her son on how to follow out the school lessons that were becoming less and less frequent. Carol could see the strain on Lori's face, the exhaustion that hadn't existed a few weeks ago, and wondered why it was there now when their time on the farm was safer and more relaxed than it had been for the weeks before they'd arrived. Even with walkers in the barn, the woman should have felt safe with the men constantly taking shifts to ensure the dead didn't break through the barn doors. When Lori slowed her washing, dragged a hand out of the tub to hold against her stomach and then went green, Carol suddenly put puzzles pieces together as the woman ran from her task to the other side of the RV, and vomited up what little food she'd been eating.

Startled at her discovery, Carol followed, stopping as she came to a woman in tears with a string of saliva still stretched from her lips. Carol quickly ducked back to grab a hand towel and a bottle of water from the makeshift kitchen area and took it to her friend. Lori smiled weakly her gratitude, then leaned back against the RV with her eyes closed.

"Rick doesn't know," she said and Carol glanced up in surprise. Had Rick been back with them long enough for him to be the one who should hear the news? Or maybe to Lori it didn't matter. It was a delicate situation and suddenly she was very concerned for Shane, hoping this wouldn't push him further over the edge that he was teetering upon.

"He won't hear it from me." Carol reached over and took Lori's hand, squeezing it lightly as Lori dissolved into tears.

"Thank you, Carol," she sobbed out miserably, sliding down the RV to sit on the grass. "Glenn keeps telling me I should tell Rick and now Dale knows and I don't know how long I can keep it a secret, but I want to decide what to do before I drag Rick into this mess."

"It's a big decision, even before when we weren't being chased by walkers," Carol agreed, her heart going out to Lori. "What do you want to do?" As horribly confusing and depressing her own life was right now, Carol didn't envy Lori this decision. "Lori, you have to know, whatever you decide, we'll support you. Some might not be happy about it—either way—but in the end, we're there for you."

Lori looked at her like she could hardly believe what she was hearing. "How can you sit there and not hate me?"

Carol wondered how much of her own conflict about this news was visible on her face, because she believed Lori might not have come to that conclusion if she could see the train wreck of emotion tearing her up on the inside.

"I admit I'm jealous of you," Carol said, looking away from the woman at her side and peering off into the distance of Herschel's fields. "You have a healthy son and a baby on the way and a husband who would do anything to put you first. I have nothing, just a past that would break me open if I let it. A dead daughter, dead husband, two abortions…" she revealed nervously, a sideways look at Lori enough to gauge the shock the other woman experienced. "I couldn't risk bringing another child into our house. I could barely keep Sophia safe as it was, and look how that turned out?" Carol choked on a forced laugh, her eyes filled with bitter tears. "I made that choice, and I don't regret it, because my husband was an evil, angry son of a bitch. But if it was now…if I was having a baby now when we might be struggling for enough food, struggling to stay alive with a baby crying and calling walkers down on us, but I had a man that loved me and was good to me, I would do everything in my power to keep that baby alive. That baby would be hope and love and every good thing we're fighting for."

Lori was looking at her like she'd never seen her before and Carol was feeling a lot like a woman that she'd never recognised as herself. Lori shook her head as if to clear it, awe in her gaze as she once again turned to Carol. "I'm not sure if this baby is…Rick's." She waited for censure, but Carol was the last one who'd ever give it to her.

"You think it might be Shane's?" Carol waited for Lori's slow nod, the brunette's eyes watering up and her lips quivering with fear. "I think Rick would understand that, too. You both thought he was dead. He knows it's a miracle he's not, and that he even found you." She rubbed Lori's hands in hers, feeling the chill within the other woman and wanting nothing more than to help her be right with this. There was so very little room in their lives now for regret over mistakes that were made when fearing death.

"I feel so sick inside for not at least waitin' for his figurative grave to grow cold."

Carol rubbed a hand over her face, feeling suddenly weary about how much loss that kept hitting them, how much change they were forced to embrace in order to keep surviving.

"Lori, no one knew what was happening. You could have been dead any day after you hit the road. Life is too short and when the world is at war, you take comfort where you can." She stopped for a second, suddenly struck by other possibilities and feeling a little gutted by them. "Do you love Shane?"

"No, no. Of course not," Lori answered too quickly, and Carol's heart sank. This was going to be so much harder if Shane was torn between a woman that might actually love him in return and his own baby when she was resolute in staying with Rick. "I care about him a whole lot," Lori said, her voice quiet and pinched in that half-truth kind of way that made Carol feel suddenly afraid. "I mean, he saved Carl and me. He got us out. But, Rick is my husband and when I thought he was dead, I felt so broken. I _love_ Rick, but, we were havin' problems even before he got shot, and this baby? It really could belong to either one of them."

Carol stared at the ground, thinking hard. "You have to forget about the men," she decided, pinning Lori with a look so intent that it shook the both of them. "They will tear you apart and if you're not even sure about how you feel about either of them, you need to forget about them. What do you feel when you think about this pregnancy?"

Lori blanched, grief taking root and spreading over her face, She shook her head fiercely, her whole body screaming 'No,' indicating to Carol that a decision had been made, but that it so far had been swayed by guilt. "I don't want it to be Shane's," Lori hissed in sudden revulsion, and Carol revised her earlier thought about Lori loving the other man. "But…I don't want to bring a child into this world. I don't want to be the reason a herd comes when it cries and could kill any of you. It's too dangerous, Carol. This baby isn't hope, it isn't love. It's just a mistake that could end up getting us all killed."

Lori fell sideways against Carol's shoulder and Carol automatically embraced her, tears in her own eyes at how much this loss would be to them all. New life could have been something they'd all look toward to keep them fighting. To give them all hope for a brighter future. There could have been so much of the positive to come out of it, but she guessed, when it started out so negative, it would be impossible to take the steps needed to achieve that future—and maybe their existence was currently too perilous to risk an infant.

"Maybe, one day…"

"You're still young. There's plenty of time to make those decisions later on," Carol whispered into Lori's hair, letting the other woman sob out her grief for the baby she didn't want. "We should talk to Herschel, but you will need to tell Rick what you've decided. Don't ask Herschel to do anything without telling Rick first."

"Herschel's a man of religion. I don't think he'd be willing to help me with that. It's okay. Glenn picked me up The Morning After pill; I just haven't had the courage to take them yet."

Making the decision seemed to take a great weight off her shoulders and Lori sat up, rubbing the handtowel over her face and wiping away the tears and grime. She laughed nervously and leaned back against the wheel of the RV.

"So, how are you doing?" The concern in Lori's eyes made Carol wilt.

"I feel a little hollow," she admitted, struggling to paint an accurate picture of what life was like for her at the moment without her daughter. "There are some moments…where it doesn't seem so hard, but most of the time I'm fighting to keep my head above water."

"Like at the lake?" Lori prodded, a twinkle in her eye as she jabbed her elbow into Carol's ribs.

"Well, that was a bit of a challenge," she admitted, remembering how heavy her clothes were as she'd tried to tread water.

"So, Daryl really threw you in then?"

Carol nodded, then jumped as Lori snorted and giggled. She felt a smile flutter at her lips and she remembered back to that night and admitted to herself that it hadn't exactly been hollow she'd been feeling when she was with Daryl.

"Was that one of those moments where it wasn't so…hard?" Lori's face had transformed, humour making the few gentle wrinkles at her eyes crinkle and her smile was warm.

"What are you suggesting?" Carol struggled to hide a cheeky grin, wishing she actually knew the truth to that question.

"I'm suggesting that there's something between you and Daryl. Is there?" Lori leaned forward, eager for gossip.

"No," Carol admitted. "Nothing like that. I care about him," she said, cringing at how closely she was mirroring Lori's previous words about Shane when she knew full well her feelings for the man who resembled more a diamond in the rough than anyone she'd ever known were deeper than she'd have thought possible. They barely knew each other, but Carol guessed she might know him better than anyone. "I care about him a great deal. I care about everyone in the group, Lori. You know that."

"Yes, but Daryl is somethin' else," Lori prodded, knowing there was more than what Carol was admitting to.

"Are you waiting for me to say he's special? 'Cause that goes without sayin'. What he's done, trying to find Sophia, taking care of me…yeah, he's special, but no matter how I might feel—and please don't think I know that myself—I don't think he's the kind of man who lets a woman in easily."

Lori seemed to accept that and fell silent, thinking.

"Anything worth fighting for isn't going to be easy," Lori said and finally dragged herself up off the ground. "If you want that man, Carol, you gotta make him see that it's worth lettin' you in. Who knows, maybe that baby could be something you can hope for after all?" Lori didn't wait for her reply, ducking back around the RV to finish off her washing, leaving Carol deep in thought.

Daryl was never, ever going to agree to take watch on the RV again. Dale and Andrea could rot in Hell before he ever got suckered into either one of their sob stories about needing a break from watch. He had no clue how much of the camp gossip they must have been privy to all this time, but it was something he wanted no part of.

He didn't give a shit that Lori was pregnant, not that he was surprised. As stealthy as Shane had thought he was, Daryl didn't think anyone in the camp back at the quarry had been in the dark about the affair, except maybe the kids. He was partway to feeling sorry for Rick when he remembered the hug he'd shared with Carol, then forced himself to stop being a jackass. Rick was a good man, Daryl knew it, but what he didn't know, didn't understand about himself, was why he felt like someone was slicing him up on the inside whenever he saw Carol with any of the men in the group that wasn't him.

The talk he overheard affected him in ways he'd never anticipated. He'd never heard Carol share anything about her life before they'd met at the quarry, and now he thought himself stupidly simple for not thinking beyond the physical pain and violence she'd undoubtedly suffered at the hands of her husband's fists. He couldn't help but admire her for making the hard decisions, recognising for herself when life had thrown her up a wall and totally fucked her over. He might have respected her less for bringing more children into the life she'd known, much like he had his own momma for throwing him into hers.

He'd stilled in anger when Rick's wife brought him into the conversation. He didn't like being the topic of their gossip, and he liked it less when the woman had made innuendos about something between him and Carol that just wasn't there. His mind and body burned with memories of the kiss she'd laid on him and his confusion and fear ratcheted up a notch. He held his breath, wanting to know what Carol's intentions behind the lip lock had been, but wanting also to shut them the hell up before she could tell. It turned out Carol wasn't the type to kiss and tell and he smirked at that, relief rushing through him, until they implied he might be worth the effort of a fight, and when Lori started talking about babies he almost lost his shit right there on the RV.

He waited for Lori to leave, a little surprised that Carol had stayed behind, and for all of two seconds the memory of that kiss at the lake prevented him from letting her know he was above her taking watch. Then he was calling down to her, smirking at how she jumped a mile at the sound of his voice.

"Carol. Get your ass up here. Now."

She craned her neck and looked up, gasping as she realised he must have heard every word of her conversation with Lori. Without a word she stood and ran around the RV to the ladder, scrambling up the side to the roof.

"What are you doing here?" Carol asked in a whisper, nervously wringing her hands together.

"You need to stay outta their business," he growled, dropping back down in the deck chair Dale had set up on top for those taking watch.

"It's not that easy, Daryl. An' it's not the way friends work."

"You ain't friends with Rick, or Shane. This ain't got nothin' to do with you."

Carol was watching him. He could feel the burn of her stare as she studied how he was bent forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees as he periodically looked through Dale's binoculars, studiously ignoring her presence, and he recognised when the lightbulb went off in her head. "This about Lori deciding to not go through with the pregnancy or because I said I think you're special?"

His jaw tensed and for an insane second, he thought Carol was going to laugh at him.

"I think she made the right decision for her," she confided, taking the risk to go closer and kneeling down next to his chair. She reached for the binoculars, almost pulling them from his hands when he refused to surrender them up so easily.

"It might be the right decision, don't mean Rick or Shane can't come back and blame you for it when they find out about it."

He felt gratified at seeing the small spark of worry in her eyes as she frowned. The binoculars lifted up to her face and she looked out over the field, her thoughts to herself. Five minutes of silence was starting to feel like the best minutes of his life when she dropped them down, straightening her shoulders and brushed against his leg as she tried to get more comfortable. He should have offered her the chair, but he wasn't feeling so accommodating.

"Shane's lost his way a little bit," she agreed, finally, "but I don't think he'd do anything stupid."

Daryl speared her with an incredulous expression. "Woman, are you blind? Shane's two seconds away from losin' his shit completely and I don't want _you _gettin' caught in the crossfire."

Her face relaxed in wonder and Daryl suddenly felt uncomfortable with the way she was looking at him. She stood so abruptly that he stood with her in surprise, feeling nervous about how close they now were to each other. Her eyes had become molten, infusing warmth through his body that was already overheating from the hot, summer's day.

"You must be starving," she said, and he was positive his head would burst from the double meaning, though he didn't think he could chastise her for flirting when he wasn't exactly certain that she was. Before he had a chance to react, before he could step back and fall on his ass tripping over the chair, her hand brushed over his in a caress that lit him up from the inside out. "I'll go get you something to eat."

And then she was gone, leaving him to feel frustrated as hell that it seemed to always be her walking away.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N… Well, today is my birthday. I won't say how old I am but I will say, I would really appreciate some feedback. I'm not getting a lot and I really hate to say it, but it does rock a person's confidence and passion for getting stuck in and writing a thing. I figure I'm maybe halfway with this story, just in case you were wondering.

Part Sixteen

_Pretty much dead already…._

Sweat dripped down his face as Merle dipped the cloth once again into the bucket of cool water at his side, wrung the excess out then plopped the fabric against Sophia's brow. He knew it was counter-productive, trying to cool a fever while sitting in a tin can in the middle of a Georgia Summer's day. Wasn't like he had much choice in the matter. The kid had started burning up before he made it back to the point in the road where he'd originally found her, so he was forced to shelve the search and rescue for shelter. There'd been a house, but the number of windows and entrances seemed like more than one man with only one hand could handle if biters came a callin', so he'd chosen to set up in the little metal shed in the side of the house, giving him ample view to watch if they were discovered but enough time to get out and run to the car before they could be cornered.

He was no doctor—not even a geek scientist with too much curiosity and not enough balls—but when he'd stolen the serum that Milton had been giving the girl, he figured his observation would get him through. She was weak, hadn't even opened her eyes in the day and a half since they'd got off the road and Merle was starting to worry. He was keeping her cool as much as he could, cursing the Governor all the while for being a sick fuck that would condemn a little girl to die , and he was getting hungrier and more tired by the minute.

Merle wasn't so sure why he was trying to keep the kid alive. He'd barely had the chance in that short space of time after they'd fled from Woodbury for her to grow on him, yet here he was, hiding and praying the biters left this little house and shed alone while he tried to get this kid to break the fever, coating her skin with cool water, injecting her with some experimental drug and trying to coax some antibiotics into her the very few chances he was able to make her sit and drink. If it weren't for the fact she'd survived more than a week since she was bitten, he'd probably have given up long ago, abandoning her to either dig her a grave or just left her to pursue his own goals.

Nah, he'd dig her a grave. It was too late to skip out on her now after all he'd done to keep her alive. Every moment she stayed in this hotzone, however, meant less time he had to find his brother. Hell, for all he knew Daryl and that Atlanta group could have moved on by now—could be far from where Merle was stranded and he'd be right back where he started.

He sat back against the wall now, the wet cloth dangling from his fingers as he watched her, his brain scrambling to come up with a plan. He was surrounded by normal gardening refuse: wood, watering cans, trowels, a decent shovel and a pitch fork, not to mention his stockpile of guns he'd managed to sneak out of Woodbury, but he still didn't feel as safe as he could. This waiting was tiring business, and as Merle watched Sophia sweat through the fever, as he watched her moan in pain and fear, he hung his head and wondered what the hell he was going to do if she turned.

Hanging around camp twiddling his thumbs all day wasn't an activity that sat well with Daryl. He rose every morning, ate breakfast with the group, then left as quietly and decisively as he could. He'd throw a quick nod Carol's way if she was around, but for the most part he refused eye contact with anyone, eager to escape to the forest where he could be alone to ignore the confusion of his life, or succumb to it.

He'd never been one to live in close quarters with others, and even when Merle was around there was a distance they'd both respected. He loved Merle the way only a brother could, but that didn't mean he could usually stand being around all his shit. Merle was a damaged man—had been ever since Daryl could remember—and the idea of Daryl even classifying Merle as such made him snort in self-disgust. Merle didn't corner the market on damage. Daryl had his own carved out corner of pain that he'd protected with the veracity of a wounded bull, and without any effort at all, these people were doing their damndest to tear it all down. He'd have probably been able to uphold the walls, if it weren't for Carol and the little girl she'd lost.

Truth be told, Daryl was weary from keeping himself apart. Tired of being the one to hold affection and the finer points of emotions at bay for the sake of protecting his heart from being shredded. He'd long ago recognised Carol as an equally tortured soul, marvelling at how two broken people could connect in any kind of way that could make sense when he and Merle had slipped aside each other their whole lives. Yet Carol hadn't locked herself away after suffering such brutality at the hands of her husband. She'd never turned her back on the others in their group. Even with her daughter missing she'd been caring of the others to the point of neglecting her own needs.

He'd been out all day, his body covered in sweat and satisfaction from a good day's hunt, when he returned to camp with his kills. He had a small bundle of meadow mushrooms he'd found in the field as he was leaving the wood line, and over his shoulder he hauled a wild hog, all trussed up and ready to hang over the fire. He was ignoring the stabbing pain in his calf from where the poxy motherfucker had ripped his flesh open, already reciting in his head the lecture he'd get from the old man about infections and how fast they were running out of medications to treat the simplest injuries let alone the bigger ones this group seemed to always attract.

He dumped his kill in front of T-Dog and limped over to sit by the fire, feeling relief deeper than he'd ever admit.

"Where's Carol?" His voice came out strained and T-Dog arched a brow at him in concern.

"Dude, what happened to you?"

"Jus' a scratch. You didn' answer the question," Daryl observed irritably, feeling the burning ache in his leg all the stronger now that his purpose was at an end and he'd taken a load off his limbs.

T-Dog jerked his head to the field beyond the RV. "She and Shane were doing some weapons training a bit earlier. Don't know if they're still out there."

Daryl hauled himself back to his feet, limped over to the RV and looked beyond to the field. It looked like she was running, with Shane chasing after her and taking her down hard. The tussle that followed had Daryl seeing red; he pushed off from the vehicle he was leaning against and ran as fast as he could to Carol. He was already gripping his crossbow in his hands, positioning an arrow in the stock and preparing to put it right between Shane's eyes.

"That's it, Carol. Come on, this motherfucker wants to kill you, wants to tear your flesh from your bones. Whatcha gonna do about it? You gonna stand there and scream like a girl or you gonna rip this bastard to shreds?"

With a determined grunt, Carol kicked out and actually caught Shane around his gut, slamming him in the face with a hand towel as he stumbled backward.

"Oh, shit," Shane laughed, obviously enjoying the game between them. "Direct hit. You just killed yourself a walker."

The ex-officer whooped to the wind, ran forward and grabbed Carol around the waist, the both of them laughing as he swung her around in victory.

"Now, best you do those two laps of the field and we'll call it a day."

Before Daryl made it to them, slowly lowering his weapon, Carol took off at a jog around the perimeter of the field, Shane shaking his head in happy satisfaction.

"Hey, man," he greeted, raising his hand as Daryl finally came to a stop at his side. "You seen what she just did? Before I'm through with her, I'll be puttin' her on the crack team. Woman has a mean kick and her elbows are bony." He chuckled. "Won't take long to whip her into shape at all."

"What's with the runnin'?" Daryl asked, transfixed on the sight of her in short gym shorts and a tight shirt as her arms pumped with her steady jog around Herschel's field. It was a big field. Her head was down, watching the ground as she threw one foot in front of the other and kept a pace that surprised Daryl. He didn't realise she was fit at all.

"Stamina," Shane replied, watching his pupil with burning pride and a genuine grin on his face. "Survivin' out here's not all about putting a knife through a walker's skull. Sometimes you gotta run, and the best chance she's got is to be able to run like hell."

"Smart," Daryl said with grudging respect.

Carol had circled through her first lap and was jogging up to them before Daryl even realised. She was pink from the sun and exertion but she was smiling with renewed purpose. Then she caught sight of his leg and paled.

"Oh God, what did you do?" Second lap forgotten, she collapsed at his feet and whipped aside the tear in his pants to see the gored wound beneath.

"It's nothin'." He tried to jerk his leg away from her, the ache flaming up and burning anew once she'd gently prodded it with her finger. Carol straightened, shooting him a disbelieving look.

"That nothin' seems kind of deep. I think you'll need stitches, and it has to be cleaned anyway. Come on, I'm taking you over to Herschel. Hopefully he'll still help you despite being found out about his barn full of walkers." Carol shot a sideways look at Shane, feeling guilty about mentioning the walkers when everyone had gone to great efforts to not do so around him, wary of him losing his grip and marching over there and slaughtering the lot. She shuddered at his grim look and smiled apologetically before grabbing Daryl's arm and dragged him back to camp, stopping briefly at the RV to collect some fresh clothes for herself to wash off the sweat of her training once she dropped him off to the good veterinarian.

The walk from camp to Herschel's front porch seemed endless and agonising. Daryl knew that the only way he'd fail to walk that distance was if his leg had been cut clean off, but Carol still insisted in throwing his arm over her shoulders, winding one of her own around his waist and helping him shuffle and limp across the dirt. She'd forced her bundle of clothing into his free hand and hers now gripped the one of his that dangled from her shoulder. His whole body was rigid from sensation overload and his head was buzzing with every slow step they took. His calf hurt like a bitch in winter but he didn't think that was what caused his sudden inability to function right. He felt like Carol was all over him and every part of his body was reacting to her closeness inappropriately. His whole right side burned with flames he couldn't see and he cursed aloud at the sheen of sweat that broke out all over his body.

"I saw T-Dog dealin' with that thing you caught today. Squirrels not good enough for us anymore, you gotta go riskin' yourself for some bacon?" She grinned up at him and Daryl felt his heart nearly stop. Her body was turned slightly into his, the side of her breast pressed in to him and suddenly all Daryl could make his mind function on was the image of her naked and leaning over him. He shook his head violently, pushing away from her as they reached the porch steps.

"I'm fine," he growled, feeling a whole lot better now that her touch wasn't making his head spin.

Herschel took one look at Daryl hobbling through his front door and rolled his eyes, his mouth set in a grim line. "You people are astounding," he commented before heading straight to the room where all the patients from the group had been treated. "Young man, you need to slow down on injuring yourself or you'll be in a world of trouble before too long."

Daryl snorted before following the old man into the room and sitting down hard on the chair next to the bed.

"Not like I done it on purpose."

"Herschel, do you mind if I watch?" Carol asked timidly, moving slowly into the room behind the men. "Don't think anyone in camp has any real first aid training and I might need to know the finer points of sewing up gashes like that before too long."

"Sure, sure, the more the merrier."

Daryl watched her as she moved confidently about the room, watching Herschel's moves like an eagle eyeing its prey. His mouth drew tight against the pain as the needle finally came out and sewed his flesh back to rights, Carol reaching out and taking his hand for a reassuring squeeze even as she watched every stitch be placed. The tugging at his skin wasn't a new sensation for Daryl, but the gentle comfort Carol offered through the process was, and it made the pain sweeter for it.

She didn't let go of his hand until Herschel finished dressing the wound and started talking antibiotics and she rushed off to get a glass of water from the kitchen. She returned quickly and Daryl threw back the pills placed in his hand, gulped down a mouthful of water, and waited in stillness for the sweat from his pain to dry on his face.

"So, what caused the injury this time, son?" Herschel asked, curiosity winning out before he left the room entirely.

"Wild hog," he answered shortly, feeling his chest tighten as Carol took the glass from his shaking fingers and put it on the bedside. He jerked as she started to unconsciously rub his shoulders, listening to their conversation with a weird look on her face.

"Not an easy animal to catch. Pity it got away. A bit of pork might have made a pleasant change from fowl and beef," Herschel observed and Daryl snorted.

"It didn't get away," Carol said and then Daryl recognised it: pride. "I saw T-Dog making a spit over the fire back at camp. That thing looked huge. You want to bring the girls down for dinner with us tonight, Herschel? It's the least we can do after you've sewn up Daryl's leg." Her arm left his shoulders, drifting in one last arc down his back before she followed Herschel out of the room, waiting on his answer.

The vet wavered in the doorway, looking at Daryl with his pale face and Carol's, eager and smiling.

"Thank you, Carol. I think…yes, we'll be down this evening." He walked away, leaving Carol hovering in the doorway while Daryl stayed on the chair, his eyes watching her carefully.

"You best let the others know we'll be havin' guests for dinner. Not sure how Shane will handle himself." If Daryl knew Shane at all, the ex-cop was going to blow a fuse and possibly Herschel's head off in the process. It was a smart move by Carol—trying to diffuse the situation regarding the walkers locked away on the property, but he wasn't sure how successful it could be when the group was still on high alert for danger and Herschel thought he and his family were safe with the dangerous creatures locked away within plain sight. He knew the man had suffered the loss of his wife and son, but he hadn't been living on the run for his life, hadn't been turning in nights with a hollow belly, and he hadn't had to listen to a woman break apart for losing her daughter in the cruellest way imaginable.

"Would you mind doing that?" Carol asked, her voice suddenly timid. "I need to shower—unless you need help getting back to camp?"

"I'm good," he replied, feeling confused at her sudden relief to be away from him.

"Great. I'll…see you later." And she was gone faster than a rocket down the hall, shutting the bathroom door harder than he thought she had the energy for.

"Lori, what are you doin' in here? T-Dog's servin' up that hog Daryl caught today. My mouth's already waterin' from the smell." Rick grinned as he ducked through the door of their tent but all thoughts of food disappeared when he caught sight of how pale his wife's face was. "Hey, what's wrong?" He rushed forward and pressed the back of his fingers across her forehead, his gaze darting to hers in concern at how clammy her skin was.

"It's…my stomach," she gasped out, the effort draining her remaining energy as she tumbled toward the camp bed and lay down, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms holding them there tight. Tears started falling rapidly and she moaned against the pain, her body rebelling against something and Rick had no clue how to help her.

"I'll get Herschel. He's right outside."

He was almost out of the tent when Lori called him back, her eyes swimming with tears and her bottom lip wobbling. "Can…can you get Carol, too? Please?"

Rick nodded, worry making him bite his lip. There was something going on here he didn't understand, he sensed it, but as Lori's body jerked against the pain in her gut he realised now wasn't the time to wonder.

"Herschel? Lori's not feeling well. Can you take a look?"

The older man sighed as he pushed himself to his feet. "I swear, even when I was practicin' full time I didn't have as much as work as you people are bringin' all day long."

Rick acknowledged the gibe with tight lips, staring at the ground. He knew Herschel was almost at the end of his patience with the group, with Rick's continual arguments as to why they should stay, and if he didn't know any better he'd start wondering if his people kept getting hurt to show the old man how much his services were in desperate need.

Everyone else in camp was staring at him , their concern evident, but his eyes fell on Carol and he asked her to attend to Lori as well, mentioning that his wife had asked for her. He didn't miss the sidelong glance she shared with Daryl and he pursed his lips further, knowing for certain now that something was up. Hurrying after Carol and Herschel, he figured he was going to find out sooner or later.

He walked in as Herschel was palpitating Lori's abdomen, his wife writhing in agony at each gentle press. Her face was covered in a sheen of sweat and she shook uncontrollably.

"Did you eat anything recently?" Herschel asked around feeling her stomach and Lori's moaning attempts to stop the pain.

She shook her head no and then wildly grasped toward Carol for her hand. Carol looked terrified, stepping further into the tent to take Lori's hand in hers.

"Lori," she appealed gently. "You have to tell Herschel. This is bad."

Lori sobbed then, her face collapsing with grief as she nodded. "I took some pills." The admission was squeezed out through clenched teeth as she rode through another wave of pain, her body curling in on itself.

Herschel sat back and anger crossed his face. "What kind of pills? You people are somethin' else."

Lori was crying too much now to continue the tale, and Carol was becoming too frightened to keep the secret any longer.

"The Morning After Pill," she whispered to Herschel, her own eyes gathering tears she didn't dare shed with Rick staring down her back. "I don't know how many she took."

"You're pregnant?" Rick accused, bending forward and staring at his wife while betrayal tore his calm features apart. "You want to end that baby's life and you couldn't even tell me about it first?" He rocked back on his haunches when Lori opened her eyes and begged his forgiveness without saying a word, her vision blurred from the flood of tears.

"I can't bring a child into this world to have a short, cruel life," burst from her lips, the agony of the decision taking all their breath away.

"It won't work," Herschel said, immediately bursting her bubble. "Won't matter how many pills you took. That medication is to prevent pregnancy but it won't do a thing once it's already established." He looked at her sadly. "There is nothing I can do here. I'm sorry but you'll just have to ride it out."

Lori shook her head in denial, desperately grasping Herschel's hand as he attempted to stand and leave. "You have to help me," she begged. "A baby cryin' will get us all killed."

Herschel stood, dragging his hand from hers, his gaze searching out the others in the room as he shook his head. "I won't be party to killin' a child."

Lori barked out an hysterical laugh, her eyes swamped and her face glistening with sweat and tears. "Why? Soon as it's born, it's pretty much dead already."


	17. Chapter 17

A/N… There is half an hour of my birthday left so I thought I'd slap another chapter up. I want to thank you all so much or the reviews and the birthday wishes. I'm replying to everyone slowly but I just wanted to let you know that it made a great birthday to read how you feel about my fic.

Part Seventeen

The rest of the group learned Lori's news as they sat around the campfire, Herschel barely regaining his seat and plate of food before Rick appeared. He went straight for Carol, emotion making him draw in long, tortured breaths as his wild eyes pinned her into instant stillness.

"You knew," he accused and as his voice broke, his face crumbled. "Did you tell her to do this? Are you so bitter about Sophia you want to destroy my unborn child as well?"

Carol fell back in shock, her hand immediately covering her mouth to hold back her cry as she shook her head urgently.

"Back the hell off, Sheriff." Daryl was there suddenly, standing between them, protecting her again from threats, but this time from their own group, and Carol couldn't stop the fear-induced thudding of her heart.

"Daryl, don't," she pleaded, her voice small and afraid.

Rick looked murderous, ignoring Daryl as he tried to push him aside to get back to her. Daryl shoved him roughly away and drew his crossbow in one fluid motion, aiming it directly at Rick's head.

"Let's have a _calm _fucking_ discussion _about this_," _he mocked, everyone recalling the way Rick had tried to tame Daryl into listening about Merle all that time ago at the quarry. "She only found out about Lori yesterday. All she did was lend an ear, your wife did the rest."

"He's right, Rick," Glenn said now, stepping forward even though his eyes were darting everywhere as if afraid some blood was about to be shed. "I went and got the test for her days ago and Maggie and I went back day before yesterday for the other stuff—vitamins and…and those pills. Lori hadn't decided yet. Carol had nothing to do with it."

"And I've known since Glenn told me about the walkers in the barn, saw how nauseated she became when I was cooking breakfast," Dale confided, launching himself into the mix in an effort to calm everything down. "Lori is scared of what a baby in this world will mean—whether it can survive, let alone thrive in it. Whether it can grow up to find anything about this life worth living for. She's afraid and she's only spoken to those of us who worked out the truth on our own. Glenn, me and Carol. Perhaps you should go and speak to her yourself and wonder why the rest of us worked it out when you couldn't. The signs have all been there."

Rick looked around him, his jaw flexing rapidly as his anger, his loss, his frustration rebounded around his head. He took in the sight of Carol, recoiling from him, shaking from his confrontational stance and crying from his horrible words. It had been uncalled for, what he'd said about Sophia, but he didn't know how to take them back. Didn't think he could, but as he went to try, taking a step toward her and she took an automatic, fearful one back, he knew he'd not get the chance as Daryl's arrow almost scraped against his nose.

"You best step back," Daryl warned with a snarl.

Rick swallowed heavily, rocked back on his heels and put his hands on his hips. He stared at the ground, his eyes stinging and his throat feeling tight and hot.

"Carol, I apologise—"

But she was gone. Before he could utter anything to make it better, she'd turned and, on light feet, fled away from the camp and toward the barn.

Daryl lowered the crossbow, stared hard at Rick and then chased after her, leaving them all to wonder about it all, and knowing that most of them would be looking at Shane.

She'd dived into the woods without even thinking. Running, running like she'd never run from Ed, though the pain was just as acute. The sobs rose in her throat in a rush that almost crippled her, but Carol ran on, not knowing she was heading to the lake until her feet led her to the beautiful white flowers growing around it that she'd noticed the last time she'd come. She collapsed to her knees, her hands bracing against the ground in front of her, fingernails curling into the dirt as she bent over and heaved out that pain.

Sophia.

Carol knew she hadn't tried to take Lori's child away because of resentment or hatred for losing Sophia, not intentionally anyway, but now that Rick had thrown the accusation at her, she wasn't sure.

No, no, he was wrong. He had to be wrong. Deep in her heart she'd wanted Lori to keep the child, even though she knew what lay ahead for them all when Rick discovered the baby might be Shane's. She knew Rick would have forgiven Lori for being with Shane, eventually. The circumstances behind them being together had been so fraught with pain and fear that no one could have faulted the woman's need to take strength to make it through this horrific nightmare any way she could. If Carol could have found it away from Ed, she didn't think she'd have thought twice about it. But the baby…no, she wanted the baby to be part of their group, to give her something to love and something to give her hope for this world. She hadn't wanted Lori to go through with getting rid of it.

She screamed when his arm went around her waist, flipping herself around so fast to fight for her life she almost fell over dizzy. Seeing Daryl she launched herself into his arms instead and let it all go, sobbing into his shirt front like she'd had the whole world to mourn. She fisted handfuls of his shirt, burrowing into him as far as she could but the pain wouldn't stop now that the wound was truly open. It barrelled into her, waves and waves of despair and anger and fault. She should have watched Sophia better, she shouldn't have been dreaming of wearing red, she shouldn't have been relieved and _happy _that her vile, brutal husband was _dead _and she should never have allowed herself to think she was anything in this group but a pathetic waste on the fringe of it all. No value as a member, no value as a friend, no value as a woman and no value as a _mother. _

She had no idea that she'd spoken it all out until Daryl grabbed her upper arms and thrust her back, his face a study of fury.

"The fuck you mean, you have no value? You're the most valuable person in that miserable camp. You clean, you cook, you be their fucking _friend _when they don' even deserve you, you give them forgiveness and do everything you can to stop their pain—help them keep _their _fuckingsanity when not one of them has lost what you've lost. Hell, you're one crazy woman if you think that. You're _wrong."_

She wasn't sure how he did it but Daryl had quieted the screaming in her head, the turmoil of voices of her past—Ed, her parents, her grandfather and his evil looks that always put her on edge and made her want to run away. It was all gone and all she could hear now was Daryl and the faith he had in her that was so new an experience that it made her heart swell to bursting.

Carol nodded, her hands slowly releasing the bunching of his shirt in her fists. She left her palms resting against his chest, her skin warming as she felt the thud, thud, thud of his heart as it beat frantically against her fingers. Her thoughts felt thick, slow as her body and her emotions fought to calm and as she waded through those depths, she felt him move.

She gasped as he lifted a hand and his thumb swiped away the tears on her face and then she was breathing heavily, lifting her face until their eyes clashed and she saw something so startling in his heated gaze that her mind blanked and she forgot to breathe. She was shutting down, little by little as he drew closer, and as she was about to fade out altogether, his lips settled on hers and everything came rushing back as if shocked into release by the flick of a switch. Sensation exploded within her and Carol cried out in favour of it, opening herself up to receive it in a kiss so sweet it made her ache.

His lips tentatively rubbed against hers, gentle as a wisp in the afternoon breeze, barely there but enough to make her heart pound. Then the pressure increased and he massaged the curve of her lips, found the slit between them and licked it with his tongue. As she opened her mouth and welcomed him inside, her fingers found the tangle of his hair and she whimpered. His arm around her waist dragged her closer and Carol nearly collapsed against him, clinging desperately as his tongue licked the inside of her lips, poked against her tongue, teasing and hesitant and shy.

Just when Carol thought she was going to go up in flames, Daryl pulled back, breathing raggedly as he watched her, smirking when he saw how totally blown away she was and completely incapable of speech.

"Told you not to get involved in their shit," he said and Carol couldn't help but smile.

Dale watched as Rick went back to his tent. They could all hear Lori's moans of pain and for some it had turned them off the meal Daryl had provided, and T-Dog had prepared. In a general consensus, they'd moved to gather up the food and started walking toward the farmhouse, and as they did, Dale watched Herschel's grim face and wondered when the explosion would finally occur. He found himself the object of more than one curious glance now the secret of Lori's pregnancy was out, but the one that disturbed him the most was the glare he received from Shane. He'd been relaxing around the other man—he wasn't prepared to say that he'd ever totally change his opinion of him and come to like him in time, but through some gentle chats with Carol and the redirection of his energies in training her to protect herself and others, he'd thought Shane was letting his obsession with Lori slip away.

Finding out he might potentially be a father in front of a camp full of people would undoubtedly rock that progress, Dale realised. Especially when the woman's husband was still completely unaware of the triangle he was perched at the top of. Where even a day ago Dale might have met Shane's glare with loathing, now he just felt sadness and he tipped his head to the other man and hoped he could see the apology that was meant.

Shane stood abruptly, watched as the other members of the group walked across the yard to the house to finish their meal in peace, then spun on his heel and headed toward the barn. If he was truthful, Dale was surprised Shane had even left his post in order to share the meal with them, knowing the man saw the walkers in the barn as an imminent threat. Not that Dale didn't, but it was the air of collapsing control around Shane that worried him the most.

Knowing that everyone was now either gone or distracted, he grabbed his plate and climbed carefully back to sit on the RV. The others had reached the house by now, and as he observed Andrea and Glenn encouraging Carl up the steps and inside, he heaved a sigh of relief. The boy didn't need to be involved in the drama unfolding in his parent's tent right now, though he hoped the group could pull together and watch him thoroughly enough to keep him out of the way. That boy had a knack for slipping through even the most tenacious watch on him. Dale chuckled, shook his head, then looked sadly at the larger tent in camp. He could hear Lori crying, Rick's voice patient one minute, angry and hurt the next. The group was fracturing—too many personalities and issues and agendas pulling them apart when they all needed to pull together for the sake of survival.

Dale pushed his food around his plate and imagined what it might have been like if his wife had seen this world, and knew in his heart that he was glad she hadn't. Then again, all you needed in life were the little moments of pleasure, happiness at the little things, and these were what he had shared with his wife their whole time together. He didn't think a few dead people could change that focus, but he could see now why Lori was so concerned for her child. If you were unable to seize the good things that still existed even in their shitty existence, then there was no hope to be had for the child. No hope to be passed on.

Dale sat on the RV and watched as the moon began to break into the sky, a blanket of stars shining down on him with a beauty that was breathtaking, and was glad for the small things that kept them clinging to life.

Carol broke through the trees to the side of the barn first, the rustling of the bushes prompting Shane to investigate. Daryl followed her, his crossbow slung casually across his back. Carol looked wasted, her face a mess of dried tears and dirt and Daryl's shirtfront was suspiciously damp. Shane nodded at them both and resumed his post.

Carol made to go after him and Daryl shot out a hand to grab her arm.

"The hell you doin'? Wasn' Rick enough for one day?" The concern for her that he wasn't bothering to hide took her breath away and for one shocking minute she just held his gaze, wanting nothing more than to curl her arms around him and press her face to his chest. After the kiss they'd shared, though, he'd hastily re-erected his self-defences and his 'back off' vibe was starting to give her whiplash.

"He's hurtin', Daryl. Someone has to talk to him." She could see he didn't like it, his eyes narrowed and flinty as he looked at the other man. Shane's usual cocky, in your face swagger was gone and his face looked completely blank, so contrary to what Daryl knew she should do, to walk away, he nodded and went with her.

"Hey, man. Carol." Shane nodded in greeting and Carol could see how he was struggling to hold himself together and impulsively, Carol stepped forward and hugged him. Unlike the hesitation that always accompanied any touch with Daryl, Shane whipped his arms around her and held her close. She could feel his body shaking, felt alarmed at the tension in him as he breathed deeply, desperately against her neck. He pushed her away gently, smiling around the act but never quite meeting her eyes.

"Guess you was right," he said, his voice uneven as he stared first at the dirt at his feet and then back at the barn as the emotional moment receded into the background.

She frowned in confusion, turning around to see Daryl with a cloud hanging over his face and his hand flexing on his crossbow. He refused to look at her and her stomach dropped, knowing she'd done something wrong but not quite sure what it was. She couldn't lose herself in worrying about that, though. Shane was obviously in pain and she owed it to him to help in any way she could, though she knew, as usual, any attempt would be woefully short of what he needed.

"What was I right about?"

"Lori made her choice as soon as Rick came to camp—and don't get me wrong, it was the choice she was supposed to make." He breathed deeply, focusing his thoughts and rage into something he could keep in control. "This baby…it could be mine. How am I supposed to stay with the group with my best friend knowin' his child might be mine?"

"I won't lie to you, Shane. This situation is bad. But it will get better. And when it gets better, you should be here to know it. So, don't go gettin' weird ideas in your head about leavin', or killin' Rick, or anything else you might regret. Just…hold it together and…survive. You're not alone. None of us are anymore." She turned around fast to see Daryl's eyes widening with amazement and admiration and hope and she smiled at him before reaching out and lightly touching the hand still wrapped around his crossbow.

"Daryl? What's your opinion on this walker situation?" Shane asked suddenly, catching the hunter's eye and then flicking his head at the barn.

Carol could see the surprise that sprouted on Daryl's face and felt a warm pit of approval stir in her belly. It was probably the first time Shane had appealed to Daryl for an opinion on something so serious, something he'd had to witness Rick doing increasingly lately as his friend brushed him aside. Carol thought maybe it had been Rick's instinct when seeing his best friend losing his grip, but maybe the other man had subconsciously sensed the battle going on for Lori's loyalty.

"We need to clear it out," Daryl said without any hesitation. He squinted his eyes, lifted a thumbnail to his mouth so he could chew on the quick and looked nervously between Carol and Shane and she felt herself go cold. He took a deep breath then looked around her, deciding to share what fear had both of them hesitant to see what really existed behind those chained doors. "We're…worried Sophia might be in there. Has to be done—or we clear out of here for good. Herschel's not gonna give permission to shoot up his family."

Shane's jaw worked overtime as he considered their words, looking at the barn once more and nodded.

"I'll talk to Rick. Might be time to move on and let the stupid old fool deal with his own shit. He ain't gonna last long, I bet."

Carol felt an out of place coldness seep deep into her bones, fear of the walkers hidden away finally slamming into her as a reality. Images of Herschel and his girls being ripped apart because the man was too deluded to understand the real danger of the infected flitted through her mind and she knew, knew they couldn't leave here without showing Herschel how very wrong he was, without doing everything they could to save his daughters even if he refused to save himself.

They had to kill the walkers Herschel had hidden away. There was no other choice.


	18. Chapter 18

AN… Hello all! Wondering if someone here can help. I am part owner of a Spuffy Archive and since renewing I've convinced the other owners to agree to opening a Caryl specific archive. Decisions on a name aren't final, though Cherokee Rose : A Caryl Fanfiction Archive is currently the front runner. What we need is some brilliant graphics to make a skin for the site and then obviously it will be open for business. I'm not on Tumblr etc and have no idea who the current graphics people are in this fandom, so can anyone make any suggestions? If you can, PM me please.

Now, onto fic. There's a bit more Merle in this chapter. I hope people are as keen to see him as I am to include him, because my heart is still broken that he's gone from Canon As always, I really, really appreciate reviews. It does something for the enthusiasm to continue. Having a little trouble writing chapter 20 so enthusiasm would be lovely!

Big thank you's to Tam and Susan for being beta queens. Oh, and I don't own anything except the computer I wrote this on…sobs.

Part Eighteen

Her scream echoed through the night, jerking him awake. The way his eyes stung told him he must have only just fallen asleep, and then he wondered how he'd managed to close them and shut off his own head in the first place. Carol's cries reached his ears through the opened RV windows and he heard her muttering and calling her daughter's name softly before she forcefully settled herself. He couldn't help but wonder if thoughts of her dead daughter possibly hiding away in that barn had invaded her dreams, like they had his every waking moment since he'd given words to their fear earlier when talking to Shane. Closing his eyes was the only way to shut it out. The only way for him to block out the pain that he knew Carol would be in if her little girl stumbled out of that building growling, rotting, charging toward flesh.

He could hear someone entering the RV and he tensed, reaching carefully for his crossbow in case he needed to go and plant an arrow in someone's ass. He heard the low, soothing tones of Andrea and relaxed, relieved the other woman would go to Carol to offer her comfort. Better her than Shane who seemed to think he was Carol's new best friend.

He was wide awake now, though his limbs and heart felt exhausted. With a week under their belts at the farm, Daryl wondered how long it would take for them to either be accepted or kicked off, knowing the latter would be most likely once they cleared out the barn. And he knew they would. Shane wasn't going to leave that threat alone and even Rick, for all his hopes that they'd be safe forever on the farm if they were just allowed to stay, wanted the walkers gone as well. But if Daryl had to hear that tired refrain one more time, "this is Herschel's land, Herschel's rules," he was pretty sure he was going to plant his boot up someone's ass.

He heard Andrea leave the RV and return to her tent but could see a light on and knew whatever effort Carol had made to sleep was now at an end. He wished he could do something about the constant nightmares he knew she'd had since Sophia had been bitten, but when he couldn't even calm the ones he had before he slept, he knew he'd be useless to her.

He wasn't sure why Sophia's fate was so tied up in his thoughts. Why he'd taken on the responsibility of finding her for her mother and then taken on Carol instead. Not that he was entirely sure what taking on Carol entailed either. If he was truthful, he was pretty unsure of most everything, except that keeping that woman alive and not wallowing in her grief seemed to be the most important thing he had to do with his day.

Unsurprisingly, Daryl found that staring at the dark underside of his tent in the middle of the night to be as boring as hell. His head ached from lack of sleep, his body was wearied beyond belief, and yet the second he heard the quiet click of the RV door open and sneak shut, he was alert.

She didn't go far. He heard her poking at the barely burning coals of the fire, adding some sticks to encourage its new blaze to life, and then she sat quietly in front of it. Daryl gave up on trying to sleep and in one fluid motion, left his tent to join her. She jumped when she saw him, surprise making her jaw drop.

"Daryl," she hissed, trying to stay quiet so she didn't wake anyone else up. "Go back to bed. You need your rest."

He smirked at her, added some more wood to the fire to get it really going, then sat beside her on the log.

"I'm serious. You need as much rest as you can with how much you go out huntin' on your own."

"I will if you will," he said, his voice a low rumble that conceded how very tired he was as well as how stubbornly he was staying up with her.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. She looked up to where she knew Glenn was sitting on top of the RV and then looked at the man sitting beside her and wished for everything in the world that she could just ask him to hold her—and know that he would. She couldn't ask that, though, not with the walls that went back up as soon as their kiss was over. They weren't that familiar with each other, despite having shared the little intimacies that they had.

"Did I wake you?"

"Nah," he smirked, staring into the fire. "Damn Andrea stompin' through the camp and slammin' the door."

Carol snorted, knowing that Andrea had been the epitome of stealth when she'd come to comfort her after another nightmare—something she was sure the group was pretty sick of even if they didn't say so.

"Well I apologise, on behalf of Andrea." Carol grinned at him before holding her hands out to the fire. They sat in silence, watching the flames jump and crackle, and Carol felt guilt deeply as Daryl suffered a yawn that made his jaw crack. His head started to slowly drift to the side, then as he'd jerk awake, he'd sit up straight again. Mixed in with the guilt that she was keeping him up was the amusement at how such a stubborn man would try to sit up with her despite being way too exhausted to keep his eyes open.

The next time he jerked awake was at the sound of another tent rustling open, his eyes zeroing in immediately as Lori stumbled from her tent and came to look for a seat near Carol. She was shit out of luck, he thought to himself in a perverse sense of irritation. He wasn't moving his ass from the spot without knowing for sure she wasn't going to lay out some more priceless bits of camp gossip that her husband could attack Carol for later. She seemed to understand, and while she still looked pretty rough around the edges, she lowered herself beside him and just spoke around him like he wasn't even there. Made him feel uncomfortable as hell.

"Carol? Are you okay? I'm so sorry about what Rick said to you. He was completely out of line." She reached right over him and clasped Carol's hand and he couldn't help but be irritated that this comforting shit came so easy to these women. Came to everyone, apparently, but him.

"I'm fine," Carol answered, her voice weary but a tired smile still reaching her lips. "Rick was just upset. I know that."

"Upset my ass. He'd better watch his mouth next time he wants to vent on someone smaller than him," Daryl grumbled under his breath, his eyelids once again drooping.

Lori smiled, but Carol saw she still looked sickly.

"Lori, you should go back to sleep. I'm sure you'll be feelin' better tomorrow." Carol squeezed the woman's hand in her own, wishing there was some way she could help lighten this burden for Lori, but realised there was nothing to be done now—nothing for even Lori to do but surrender herself to whatever was going to come.

"God, I hope so. I've been feelin' just awful today." She stood up before Daryl could say a thing about her getting what she deserved, and went quickly back to her tent.

Carol sighed, knowing that she had to get Daryl back in his own tent before he did something dumb like fall face first into the fire. Deciding the best course of action would be a proactive one, Carol grasped his hands in hers and tried to get him to stand. She pulled hard on his arms until at last he stumbled to his feet, swaying as he tried to shake sleep from his head.

"Come on, tough guy. Time for you to sleep." She dragged him stumbling sleepily to his tent and found she had to go in first to lead him inside, as if she was dragging a horse to water. His knees hit his makeshift bed first and then he fell into it, his face smashing into his pillow, but as Carol went to let go to cover him up, he gripped her hands tightly and yanked her off her feet, rolled to his side and held her to his chest.

"You gotta sleep sometime, too," he said, and then the soft, steady breaths indicating he was out puffed against her cheek and she suddenly didn't care how he'd feel about her being in his space come morning. Right now she didn't think she could move.

"Merle?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"I'm thirsty."

"Not surprised. You been burnin' up hotter than blondie's ass back at the quarry."

"Don't feel so hot now. Merle?"

"Yeah, kid."

"I'm cold."

"'Bout time. Thought you was gonna burn clean away."

"Merle?"

An explosive sigh broke the darkness around her and Sophia cracked a crusty eye open.

"Yeah, kid?"

"I need to go to the bathroom."

"Lucky I found us a house with a bathroom in it, then, ain't ya."

She could hear the exhaustion in his voice and sensed the slowness of movement as lethargy settled into his limbs, and yet, Merle climbed to his feet from his seat on the floor beside her bed in order to help her up.

He gently peeled back the blanket that covered her, wrapped his good arm around her back and positioned his other under her legs, and carried her down a darkened hall to a small bathroom. The little window provided a pointed shard of light and Sophia looked quickly around at the rundown room and sighed. Merle put her down on the toilet then stepped out and shut the door.

As she slowly went about her business, Sophia couldn't think of a single time in her life when she'd felt this sick. Weakness seemed to have settled permanently about her and as she righted her clothing and washed her hands, she succumbed to the fear of what it was to cause her limbs to shake without control.

It felt so good to wash her hands, to feel the slide of soap against her palm as she washed some of the dirt from her arms and face, rinsing it from her flesh with cool water. Sophia wondered when the last time she'd been near water was, the last time she'd been able to see herself in a mirror. The bite on her shoulder was healing, she realised. It had been dressed at some point, and now it had scabbed over, ugly yes but healing, which meant she wasn't…

For the first time it hit her. She wasn't dead, she hadn't turned into one of those things like Amy had when Andrea had had to shoot her in the head on her own birthday. Like Jim was going to when he'd bravely decided to wait it out against a tree on the side of the road. Like that person Jenner had shown them whose life had shut down one brain cell at a time until there was nothing but the flood of blackened death to steal back in and reanimate the worst parts of her. A bullet in the brain was the only option, Sophia knew, and suddenly understood what it must have done to that man to shoot his wife in the head before she could have turned on him and made him like her.

"You alright in there?"

"I'm done," she called out, feeling the weakness hit her legs as soon as Merle swung the door open and caught her before she hit the floor.

"You need to eat," he told her flatly, carrying her back to the bedroom. She looked around, saw the Star Wars lego on a bookshelf and other Space like posters on the walls. It was a boy's room and she kinked her brow at him in question.

He ignored her, handing her a can of tuna fish and a fork before he sat back and tucked into a jar of pickles. The crunch was reassuring, Sophia realised, and even though in her old life she'd hated any kind of fish at all, she suddenly felt like she'd been handed food from Heaven itself and didn't waste time polishing it off. Her stomach growled angrily and she rushed to fill it, suspecting it had to have been too long since she'd last eaten.

"Easy now," Merle cautioned, placing his big hand over hers with the fork to try and slow her feeding frenzy down. "You'll make yourself sick shovellin' it in like that. There's a bit more in the pantry, so don't go panickin' jus' yet." He handed her a bottle of water and she shakily unscrewed the lid, gasping as the cool liquid flowed down her throat and the horrible, dry pain she'd been feeling there started to ease. But the weakness wouldn't leave her, so with a sweating brow, she handed her scraps back to Merle and flopped back on the pillow in a strange boy's bed.

"Merle?"

"Yeah, kid?" He tucked the blanket back up to her chin and she caught him looking nervously at the bite wound and then at the clammy skin on her face.

"You find my mom yet?"

He expelled a harsh expletive and then collapsed on the end of the bed, eyeing her warily.

"Ain't had the chance to really start lookin' yet," he admitted, voice rough as he rubbed his hand over his face, trying to keep his eyes open. "Have to get you on your feet first."

"How long have I been gone? Do you think my mom will have forgotten all about me by now?"

His eyes softened and just for a moment Sophia wanted to launch herself into his arms, taking some comfort in being held when she was so very scared. She didn't, though, her body ignoring the impulse in favour of sleeping.

"Your momma would never forget about you. That's not what momma's do." He seemed so sure that Sophia smiled, reaching out her hand to him and then sighed when he caught it in his. His size swamped hers but she wasn't afraid. It was way past time that Merle could have killed her, and he hadn't.

Her eyes grew heavy once again and Sophia tiredly thought she was sick of sleeping, but she was glad Merle was there to watch over her and keep her safe. She thought she should tell him that, make sure he knew just how much she appreciated him saving her life and looking out for her while they searched for their family. She was so tired, though.

"Merle?"

"Yeah, kid?"

She'd have to tell him when she awoke later.


	19. Chapter 19

**AN…** I'm thinking posting over Easter wasn't the smartest thing I ever did, but oh well! We're moving closer and closer to a meet up with all our characters and what an experience that will be!

Im getting a tad behind in replying to PM's and reviews an such so will do it here this time.

**Rae**—no need to be patient…here's another already! Very glad you liked the Merle bit. That was kind of fun ;)

**Guest**— (I wish I knew who you were so I didn't feel silly addressing you as just Guest!) I'm really loving having Merle in this story. It has tremendous potential and I really like adding little pieces to him in these kinds of snippets. I thought being away from her mother for so long, this fear would be something valid to Sophia, especially in a world where so very many people keep dying and you have to move on fast or end up with the same fate! Sleepy Daryl I think would be hot! Sorry, haven't addressed the morning after—there's a lot of fics out there with them snuggling up in a tent so I really didn't want to redo that. Hope you aren't disappointed with the separate scene I've included in this!

**Ashvarden**—so glad you could see the camp scene as Darylesque. He always seems half hooded and sleepy, LOL.

**A True Dreamer**—so glad you loved the chapter. It is one of my favourites! I am trying to move them along slow so it doesn't seem too fast and OOC, though I guess it will end up that way anyway.

I really, really appreciate the time it took for you all to review. It gives me the jump I sometimes need to keep going! Now, on with the show, and Happy Easter everyone! I hope you're all full of chocolate and the Series Finale. I still haven't quite decided how I feel about it!

Part Nineteen

_Playing games to get through war…_

"Shane, have you seen Rick around?"

Lori stood before him, eyes bright in her pale face, looking anywhere but right at him. As much as he wished it didn't, the way she was avoiding him hurt.

"He went off somewhere with Herschel." Thinking that was the end of it, Shane turned back to the bag of guns and methodically set to cleaning each and every one of them. Nobody else seemed to want to do it and there was little else to do and that inactivity was driving him batshit crazy—along with everything else.

"I wanted to say…I'm sorry you found out about the baby like that. I should have told you…you and Rick…instead of doing what I did."

His jaw clenched, he eased the gun in his hand back down on the table and stared down at it with glazed eyes.

"Yeah, you should have done that." As hard as he tried, he couldn't keep the hurt from making his voice crack in the middle. It had been maybe a month and a half since Rick had first been shot, though it felt like a nightmare that had happened years ago. He guessed he could trace it all back to that day, when the coldness had started to take a grip on him and cloud his mind with thoughts and feelings he didn't quite know how to handle.

When the news came that the dead were walking the streets, hungry for blood and flesh, he'd wanted nothing more than to save his partner first. Always his partner, it's the way a cop was bred. It nearly broke him when he couldn't do it—when he worked out he was too late and Rick was as good as dead no matter what he managed to do. The gurney across the door had been a last, foolish attempt to protect his friend as he had to turn his back that final time and do what he could to make it out of there.

On the steps out of the hospital, where hell was descending in a pretty close representation of what he'd been taught as a kid in Sunday School, his thoughts fell on Lori and Carl and his legs had pumped with pure panic. He might not have been able to save his partner, but he _would _save Rick's family. They'd barely made it out when the town seemed to be overrun in a matter of hours, but they had, driving with intent toward Atlanta where the broadcasts had claimed a refugee centre that would be the salvation of them all.

Another crock of shit, Shane discovered, and when the bombing had started it suddenly hit him for real. Everyone he'd ever known, everything he'd ever done, was now worth nothing as it all came tumbling down. All he had was Lori and Carl in a world gone mad and if nothing else was left, he had to do everything in his power to make it right for them.

The grief for both of them had run deep. He'd listened to Lori sob for her lost husband for days while he broke apart beside her, and when the shedding of tears became a hazard, they turned their pain into survival. He'd slept with her, not seeing it as a betrayal to his friend because all they had now was each other and the past had to be forgotten if they were going to embrace any kind of future.

That hadn't been love, he realised now. That had been war, exactly like Carol had said. He choked on a laugh, tears pushing at his throat. The comforts of war and now there could be a baby. He wasn't sure how you could tell these things, but he was pretty sure there was a chance the child she carried was his—as much of a chance that it could be Rick's.

"I…told him. About us," she admitted, and Shane squeezed his eyes shut and tried to swallow the anguish down before he let it out and it killed them both. He was standing on an edge here and he hadn't quite figured out yet if he wanted to fall or claw himself back.

He looked up and stared out across the field, smiling a little when he saw Carol running around and squealing before laughing hysterically as pretend-zombie Daryl launched himself at her and instead of using some of the attack moves Shane had taught her, she collapsed to the ground in fits of giggles.

He could hear Daryl swearing a blue streak at her, but it didn't seem to make a bit of difference, and in that one pure moment, Shane understood. This world was harsh and cruel and full of ugly death, but it was about life, too. Survival. How better to survive than by living life to their fullest potential. To laugh in the face of misery and still find a grain of something to smile about. To love all the people you were with, even if they were new to you and not people you would normally like. He could see Dale on the RV, staring out at Carol who was trying to reign in the fun and get down to the business of defending herself and Shane shook his head and grinned. Even Dale—though the sonofabitch rubbed him the wrong way ninety percent of the time. They were no longer just a group, but a family of sorts, and Shane had to learn how to protect them all and let Lori go.

"I'm going to do whatever I have to do to keep this group safe, Lori. Whether it's you, or Carol, or T-Dog…I accept its over for us…I can even accept this child won't be mine…but don't ask me to leave."

She looked shocked, then stared at her hands and nodded. "Thank you." Then she was gone, leaving Shane to blink the tears of loss from his eyes as he once again set to cleaning the weapons.

* * *

"You're not takin' this seriously," Daryl accused, hands on his hips and an annoyed frown on his face. He squinted in the sun as he watched Carol trying to stop her giggles with a series of deep breaths, then ducked his head in an attempt to hide his own smirk.

His head shot up as over-exaggerated groans of fabricated death reached his ears, Carol's arms out in front of her as the most lame assed pretend zombie Daryl had ever seen. Before he could call her out on acting foolish, she'd launched herself into his arms and dived for his throat, taking out a big chunk of his flesh and sucking on it till he was sure it was going to come up purple.

"Why, Mr. Dixon. I do think you might need some instruction on how to take out walkers in hand to hand combat."

Daryl was too stunned to move. She was straddling him as he lay flat on his back in the grassy field, her lips rosy against her bright smile, her hands braced on his chest and Daryl felt like all manner of hell might be unleashed if he moved. It was stupid. He knew she meant him no harm—woman was being playful and in one corner of his mind he could admit he'd found the moment enjoyable—but biting him, forcing him off his feet, leaning over him left him vulnerable and open and it was a sensation he'd not allowed to happen to him in quite a number of years. If he moved now or opened his mouth he was going to scare the shit out of her, and he had a feeling that the ground they'd covered together to get where they now were would sink into the earth and never be recovered.

With a tremendous show of personal strength, he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, centring his thoughts and the sensations in his body until they became the more appropriate ones and he could recognise this moment for what it was. As calmness settled he ran his hands up her legs, from knee to thigh and then raised them to her waist and squeezed. He opened his eyes to find her closer than before, leaning down into him and gazing at him with wide, inquisitive eyes.

"You okay?" she breathed, knowing already her mistake but not running when she so easily could have. Instead, letting him feel the situation out and arriving out the other side of it.

"I think so," he replied, his voice hoarse and vulnerable.

"I just want you to know that this would have been a perfect moment to kiss you, but I'm pretty sure Lori and Shane were just looking over here and I figured I'd embarrassed you enough already."

Funny, she didn't look even a bit remorseful.

"Prob'ly a good thing. Don't think kissin' walkers is really the best use of my time."

He was still struggling to breathe properly. Still experiencing the remnants of panic running through his blood, but there was something else now. Something reacting to the feel of her mouth on his neck, her hands burning into his chest, her crotch just above the place where she'd feel a very strong reaction if she moved back just the smallest bit.

Her lips twitched, parted as if ready to say something, then clamped together tightly.

"Pretty sure you'd be either eatin' me by now or movin' on to your next meal—if you were a real walker." He replayed that sentence in his head and flushed crimson at how it sounded. He was mortified, but when the pink tinge of a blush stole across her cheeks, he decided he was a little bit curious as well. He fought back a groan as Carol leaned forward and he saw the slightest shadow between her breasts down the front of her salmon-coloured tank. She sank against him so that her lips blew her warm breath against his ear and his body tensed, his hands around her waist tight and heavy.

"There's no way I'd have finished with you yet, Daryl. Too much delicious flesh to…chew on."

He knew in that moment the decision about what to do about this thing between them had been taken out of his hands. Not that he could put words to it, or explain it to anyone should they ask, but he at least knew there'd be no point denying that there was something happening between him and Carol and he wasn't entirely averse to it. Not comfortable, but not so willing to run away from it either.

"You've changed." The words grumbled from his throat without him realising it and with an idea toward self-preservation, he dropped his eyes from her face and looked at his hands that clasped her waist so tightly. He felt her sharp intake of breath and the tension in her body increased, but she didn't move and he thought he could feel his body flame from where her gaze was burning him alive.

"Is that such a bad thing?" She was always quiet but now her words barely came out as a whisper. Daryl braved the situation and caught her wary glance at him and felt his breath catch as she became the one to play cat and mouse.

"Depends on why it's happenin', I guess."

"What if I don't know? What if I'm not even doing it on purpose?" His vulnerability of earlier seemed to have rubbed off on her and for the first time Daryl realised that it wasn't just him that was afraid—wasn't just him that had been so fucked over by the past that trying to get close to someone seemed as unsafe as swimming in the ocean with sharks.

Shouts from camp broke into their conversation and Carol suddenly stood up, reaching out a hand to Daryl as her other reached up to cover her mouth. He spun around and saw what had horrified her—Herschel and Rick pacing determinedly from the woods with two walkers hooked around the throat by a noose on the end of a pole being enticed toward the barn with a nervous Jimmy dancing as walker bait in front of them. Daryl could hear the angry snarl and snap of jaws desperate to latch onto the boy from where he and Carol stood in the field, and then he could hear the fury in Shane's voice as he watched the man grab up the bag of guns and take off at a sprint toward the barn.

Daryl snatched up his crossbow from the ground near where they'd been practising and started running, still holding Carol's hand as he dragged her along behind him. He stopped at the RV, all but shoving her inside and held her eyes so she could see how much fear was in his. "Don't go down there," he ordered, and then he was off, reaching the rest of the group as Shane completely lost his head and started firing round after round into the chest of the ugly skank tethered at the end of Herschel's noosed pole. The group were taking guns from the bag and before he knew it, Shane had fired the final bullet through the brain of the woman and she fell at Herschel's feet, no longer moving, the farmer collapsing to his knees a picture of shocked repulsion. Then Daryl had a rifle thrust into his hands, a gruff, "You with me, man?" aimed at him before Shane ran back to the barn, his legs pumping fast with the expulsion of his fury and he was thumping and shattering the barn's defences, stepping back as the flood of walkers spilled out into the sun.

They stood in a tight row in front of the barn, determination and anger boiling within each of them, firing shot after shot until every walker was down and motionless in the dirt. The ground was muddied with black blood and brains, decaying flesh and bone and as Daryl stepped back and lowered the weapon, his eyes searching the depths of the dark barn, he heard Carol release a whimper behind him. He spun around and managed to catch her just before she fell to the ground. Her arms clutched around his waist and she sobbed into his chest and he held her, his relief passing through him and into her that Sophia wasn't there.

"Ssshh," he whispered huskily in her ear, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "She's not there," he confirmed and it was the only bright point of the whole fucked up episode.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N… **So, we're moving along. That reunion will be here upon us eventually! Truly, I promise.

Now for the love!

I have PMed every reviewer back except for one…

**Guest: **Whoever you are, you are wonderful! I really wanted to have some kind of impact with the barn scene so I am glad you thought I still achieved a bit of the Caryl in that moment. I think I am beginning to really like Shane. I find it a struggle to lose any of the main characters—and I haven't decided yet if he will be staying with or biting the big one. I can't tell you how much it means for you to say that the snippets of the other characters are working. In order to round out the story I think having the other characters as part of the story is essential, but it can be a very delicate process to keep it balanced and I wasn't sure if I was achieving that or not. So thank you for putting my mind at ease. Relieved to know the Caryl moment didn't flop—a very fine line with that one! Didn't know if I was being too OOC and cutesy for our poor boy that doesn't like being touched, LOL. Thank you, thank you for the time you take to review…even if I have no idea who you are ;)

**Part Twenty**

An ordinary man would have lost himself at the sound of gunshots echoing off the breeze. Merle Dixon had never seen himself as one of those, and he refused to be afraid. He'd been afraid of geeks trying to break onto the roof where he'd been tethered like an animal in a trap in the woods, and he'd appealed to God and Jesus to give him the courage and the insanity to do what needed to be done to escape, but there was no way he was going to succumb to fear of an ordinary man.

If the Governor had found them, then Merle admitted he deserved to be found for being too stupid to hide himself and Sophia from an idiot with half the skills he had. As the final crack of shots faded in the air, Merle thought on it hard. It wasn't unlike the Governor to find a threat or an opportunity and slaughter them outright. And it wasn't like the Atlanta group could be the only other survivors trying to hide out in these parts—but the odds weren't in his favour. He refused to be submit to fear, but as Merle tucked Sophia into a tiny apartment above a pharmacy in some little tin pot town, he sent up a silent appeal to his new best friend Jesus to maybe keep them safe—if he had nothing better to do. And if it had been the Atlanta group discovered by his former boss, to at least keep something of his brother existing in the world. If Merle had come all this way, if he'd turned his back and made a powerful enemy of the Governor and burdened himself forever with this girl, then that would be a reason to break. But until he knew, until he had _proof _his baby brother and that group that had left him for dead had drawn their last breath in this world, Merle was going to keep on kicking through until he won.

Sophia was awakened by the gun blasts cracking through the day and she sat up now on the bed staring at him, betraying her fear with the shake of her body and the skittish glances she swapped between his face and the window. But no screams. The first time she'd squealed when they'd encountered a biter he'd given her a severe tongue lashing. Turned out his brother had done the same thing when she'd done it some other place, some other time. Merle grinned, imagining how his little brother would have handled having a kid in the group that probably cried and whimpered and screamed every time one of her nightmares came to life. He never thought he'd be happy to be trying to survive the end of days with a kid clinging to his side, but her little snippets of his brother kept his hope alive. Merle didn't survive sawing through his own flesh and bone, screaming and crying through that kind of sanity-breaking pain, to come out of it without any chance of seeing his brother again. There had to be another explanation for that gunfight he'd heard. Daryl was a hard sonovabitch, and that new guy—Officer Friendly—had the makings of a survivalist as well. If anyone could make it, Merle knew it would be their group.

Tomorrow they'd go back to searching. The battle was too far away for him to be able to pinpoint exactly where it had come from, but the urgency to find his and the kid's people was becoming acute, moreso by the day. He'd give it another week but if he found nothing, not a sign that Daryl had stayed in the area, they'd have to leave and he'd have to give up looking for them in favour of getting himself and Sophia as far from the Governor's control as he could.

The town was silent outside the window that Merle stood at, carefully scanning their surroundings for biters or live threats. He knew it was a risk to be in a place where other survivors might come to loot, but his hand had been effectively tied with dragging a sick kid around with him. He'd needed to scavenge for food as he didn't have the freedom to go and hunt up anything with her relying on him to keep her safe, and her weakness meant that he couldn't drag her through the woods with any kind of speed. In the forefront of his mind, too, he hoped that if other survivors came to the town to take what was left, then maybe the Atlanta group might come as well.

And he'd be ready to join them—whether they wanted him to or not.

* * *

She felt so foolish. Beside her and to the right, Hershel, Maggie and Beth—poor young, innocently beautiful Beth—were breaking apart with grief over the slaughter of the remains of their family, and Carol sobbed into Daryl's shirt at the sheer relief that her daughter wasn't among them. She could barely stand to look at them, feeling torn apart anew with the knowledge that her daughter was dead, gone from her, but so very grateful she'd not had to come face-to-face with that reality today.

"Come on. I'll take you back." Daryl handed his rifle back to Shane, who had calmed considerably now the threat had been taken out, and Carol also thought she saw compassion settle over him as Beth ran forward to locate her mother in the mess of wasted bodies littering the ground. She felt unable to offer him a reassuring smile, her limbs turning numb as Daryl tried to prod her out of the way. The explosion of guns had almost deafened her, along with the Greene family's anguish and now Carol felt the blood rushing through her head, too loud to focus on the horror that was still unfolding and barely registering the terror of Beth as the young girl screamed anew and narrowly escaped being mauled to death by her walker mother.

Carol shook, and Daryl pushed her back to camp.

"Thought I told you to stay put?"

"You did," she admitted, half ashamed of herself for disobeying him and then waited for the repercussions of that decision. When all she got was a gentle push toward the RV, Carol took the first step and gratefully sank down on the seat at the table. She could feel her heart thud painfully in her chest and her muddled thoughts racing through her head. Outside looked peaceful, so she focused on that, staring through the grotty window at a scene unmoving, unchanging so she could regain control of that damaged thought that she'd have to bury her daughter's corpse today—have to see her milky, dead eyes, cover her decayed flesh, and forever see her precious girl as a monster. She'd prepared herself for it, the tears were there, ready to be shed for such loss, for such reality, and now that it was over without the end actually having come to pass, her eyes were finally dry, but her heart still just as broken.

"I had to know, one way or the other." Slowly, afraid she was going to break but trying so very hard not to, Carol turned to him, surprised to see him sitting on the bench by the door with his concern for her etched deeply around the lines of his face. His mouth was pressed into a hard line, like he was struggling with his own emotion, and Carol couldn't help but take a deep breath and stand, closing the small gap between them but careful not to touch him. She felt too afraid to go there, despite how brave she'd been earlier. "She's still out there."

"I know."

The admission cost him a part of his soul, Carol saw, and her head dropped in defeat. She was so tired from the pain, so confused why he cared, so afraid that everything would explode in her face in the not-so-distant future and she'd be incapable of dealing with it all.

"You okay?"

Carol took a deep breath and smiled. It didn't reach her eyes but she hoped it was enough to ease some of the strain he was carrying. "I'm fine. You should probably go help the others."

He apparently didn't need convincing, hopping immediately from the counter and into her space. He nodded awkwardly at her, finding it difficult to look her in the face, and then he was thudding down the RV steps, his crossbow slung across his shoulders. Carol watched as he strode away, his strong body confident now that he knew what he was doing. She hurt for the man he was that could be so strong when it came to clearing up the mess of death but weak and afraid when it came to the comfort offered from another human being.

Carol completely understood why he kept himself away. Even before she'd seen the punishments his body had caught in a permanent snapshot of his life, she'd understood his reaction to touch—his expectation that all contact with another would end in pain. The damage that was always to be found in his eyes should have been in hers, too, but Carol had had Sophia, and in the nurturing touch of her daughter she'd known that not all strokes from another's hand would be the vehicle of a punch or a lash. That not all contact would be a fulfilment of hatred or disgust. Sophia had gifted her with tenderness and as she choked down a sob, Carol thanked God for allowing her to have that source of healing when she so easily could have curled up in a ball and became a feral creature expecting nothing from life but to be kicked. Time had sped away from him, but Carol held hope that she could be to Daryl what Sophia had been to her, and teach him that her touch at least would never hurt him.

She'd occasionally broken through his flinches and withdrawal with gentleness, drawn from the imperceptible need to be near him getting stronger and stronger every day. Heat teased her face as she thought of the moments where he'd sought her out—where he'd not thought twice about touching her or offering her comfort—and she knew that with time, if she made the effort, she could maybe have him as more than her friend. Have him as more than the person who had shared with her the most fracturing part of her life.

Calmness descended on her and Carol decided she could leave the RV a stronger person than when she'd returned to it. She may have lost her daughter, and closure might be elusive for now if not forever, but she had a role to fulfil in this group and it wasn't to sit on her behind while the rest of them did the dirty work.

The sun hadn't become any less severe since the last time her feet had directed her to the carnage at the barn, but this time it heated her flesh in ways that didn't sear her soul.

"Hell, woman. Dontcha know how to stay put?" The look he shot her was one of impatience and irritation and Carol took a step back in surprise, but with steely determination to earn her own place in this group she continued on, looking to Rick and ignoring Daryl's outburst completely.

"I suffered no loss here today, Rick," she said, loud enough for them all to hear but hoping Daryl would listen and understand that she really was fine, just like she said she was. "What can I do to help?"

Rick shuddered and darted an unsteady gaze around him, clawing for something to say or instruct her to do so he could better carve out a moment for himself to process the events of the day. He struggled, then, jaw clenched, he turned back to her and gave her a quick hug. She knew he wasn't going to say he was glad Sophia hadn't been found in that place, keeping company with the other dead, but neither was he going to say he wasn't. Finding her would have been devastating—not just to her, Carol realised, but to the group as a whole—but at least it would have been final. Now they were on the edge of whatever fate had befallen Sophia and it broke Carol's heart anew to know this man still carried a burden of guilt.

Lori stepped forward, a hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun. "Carol, I'm real concerned about how Hershel and the girls might be handlin' what happened. Dale just took Carl up to rest, but could you go check on them all?"

Carol was about to object, feeling like she was being shafted to do the normal Carol-duty—look after the house, provide the food, check on the kids—but then she realised it was a valid concern. Hershel had been forced to accept that his preconceived ideas of a curable epidemic fell very short of the reality, and then saw his own wife speared through the head with a pitch fork right after almost losing his daughter to the walker's bite. His wife might have died long ago, but in the grand scheme of things, his world had only just this day been shattered completely.

Carol nodded at Lori, indicating she would go, but first she looked to Daryl, finding him dragging one of the bodies toward the truck Shane had just driven up, and doing his best to completely ignore her. His skin was already covered in sweat from the sun, his hair grungy and matted to his head, but the heat didn't seem to faze him at all. She'd never seen him hide from hard work—unlike Ed who had struggled to even get his own beer from the fridge. Daryl was in his element in the outdoors—he was strong and masculine in ways she'd never noticed a man could be before. She felt a rush of excitement spread throughout her body and as Carol faced the cold, hard fact that she was attracted to Daryl Dixon, he turned and shot her a dirty look.

This time she wasn't walking away from him; she ran.

* * *

It had been a long time since Hershel had had a drink. Too much of his first marriage had been spent with his lips around a bottle when they should have been for his wife, and yet when she'd died, he'd not been tempted to touch a drop. He knew what had turned him on that path to begin with—a brutal childhood spent with an evil man that had left him with scars on the inside deeper than the ones left on the outside. He'd felt the need to share that pocket of his history with Rick the night he'd seen even worse cruelty done to the member of his group who'd searched for the missing girl, somehow knowing that Daryl himself wouldn't have been open to a discussion about abusive fathers. Even though he'd discovered a kindred soul, he knew the man would seriously contemplate shooting Hershel through the eye with his very impressive crossbow before he'd quietly express the pain of being betrayed by a father. So, he'd expressed his own hatred of his father to Rick, a man who couldn't be an awful parent if he'd tried. And that's what he'd wanted Rick to know—that his efforts _counted_, no matter how much he feared it didn't.

Hershel had almost ruined his first marriage with his bitterness and dependence on the bottle, but before he'd lost his wife and his daughter, he'd gained some sense and made it right. Even when he'd lost her from this world, he'd stayed sober, knowing that if he didn't his role as father to Maggie would be another failure in his life.

Now there was nothing left to hide behind. His second wife, his loving Annette, had been slaughtered before his eyes and he'd been forced to face his foolishness. He'd carefully packed away her belongings before he'd gone to stand at the place she'd forever rest, and he chastised himself for being so ridiculously persistent in ignoring the truth. He'd likened the rotting corpse of his wife to a schizophrenic and now the thought made him sick. No, you didn't kill someone who had a disease—even if the person was frightening or a threat—but you certainly did if your wife and step-son were dead and yet continued to walk the ground same as you, and would happily kill the rest of the family for the sake of ingesting their flesh. Their blood.

What he had seen today had decisively blown Hershel's world apart. Not even his girls could stop the craving for a drink, and so he'd left them behind, venturing into town to a bar that had been his second home for so much a part of his life, and he'd settled down to achieve oblivion. He was almost there when Rick and Glenn found him. He thought the fight in him would have deserted him, and it had to a degree, but knowing that Rick had his back as much as he had for his group was suddenly overwhelming and unexpected.

And appreciated.

When strangers had walked in the door without warning, Hershel had sensed Rick's tension, but hadn't really understood the reason behind it until the crack of his gunshot through first one man's head and the then the second filtered through his muddled mind. Threats. This epidemic that had taken half his family and created a fear the world had never known wasn't their only worry anymore. Men that wanted to inherit the earth would be after them as well and he was at last grateful that it had been Rick that had shown up on his farm and not one of these other men whose morality was so in question.

His thoughts had turned completely from needing to drown his sorrows in a perpetually full glass; now he had to make a choice—one that might save his girls and the group camping out on his land, or one that could condemn them all.

One look at the terrified shock of Glenn, the boy his own Maggie was pinning all her hopes on, and he was decided. Life was too valuable to surrender it.

He had to choose Rick.

* * *

Merle swore as the third vehicle tore into the town, jolting to a stop with a group of men jumping out with guns slung around their arms. The first town visitor had been no threat, though Merle had chuckled briefly at the stupid old fool as he'd made a beeline for the bar. "Not the time for liquid courage, my friend," he muttered, waving at Sophia to stay in the bed. One old man was no obstacle for Merle. That was for damned sure.

The second car parked behind the first and Merle had the shock of his life when a more rugged version of Officer Friendly stepped out, followed by the chink he remembered from back on that Atlanta roof. They went straight to the bar and Merle went straight to Sophia, helping her up and gathering the small amount of supplies they'd managed to collect. He'd kept as much in the car he had hidden around the corner from the store—a different one to the one he'd used in his run from Woodbury so the Governor couldn't track him, if he'd even known how to.

Sophia moved too slow. He didn't hate her for it, but it was frustrating the shit out of him. By the time they made it downstairs the third car had arrived and the shocking sound of gunshots had stalled his feet. Fuck. If that prick Rick had gone and got himself killed before Merle could even get down to him and show him Sophia, he was going to kick his scrawny ass.

The noise held another concern. He knew walkers would be down on them before too long and for the first time Merle wavered between making a decision that would save his own skin and one that would return him to the group—or get him and the kid good and dead. Before he could make that decision, a fourth car screeched to a stop and more men with guns got out, organising a search for their friends while calling out their names. The silence from the bar seemed deafening and Merle held his breath, waiting for an outcome that would tell him what he would need to do.

As gunshots exploded around them, and he heard the approaching sounds of the dead reaching the main street, Merle screwed up his face in anger. Trust Officer Friendly to fuck his plan all to shit.

"Merle?"

"What?" he hissed, irritated beyond measure. He followed her shaking finger as she pointed up the street and he saw biters start to converge with another group of them coming from a different direction. If he cooled his heels much longer he and Sophia would be cut off from his car. Growling with fury deep in his throat, he picked her up and swung her over his shoulder before making a run for it. He ignored the screams of the man shot down somewhere to his right and the car that tore off after the remaining member of the trio attempted to jump off a roof and instead impaled himself on a decorative fence. He stumbled for a second as he saw the Atlanta people rush to the kid with his leg skewered but the biters were too close and he wasn't sure he'd make the car without having to put Sophia down. One lunged at him, and instinct had him plant his nifty knife attachment through its chin, jabbing up until the tip of his knife tore through the top of its skull.

They made it to the car and he shoved Sophia across the bench seat and climbed in, the face of a walker slamming into his window just as he turned the key in the ignition. More piled onto the hood, climbing forward to press desperately against the windscreen and Merle slammed his foot on the accelerator, whooping with glee as the bastards slid down and then were smashed under the tires. He could see the others up front peal out of the town ahead of him and he watched intently, trying to steer after them, but the dead had formed a herd and they were crowding around him. Merle ploughed through them as much as he could and then got the hell out of there before they were completely overcome. He was breathing heavily by the time he could gain speed through the town and left them behind, his gaze flickering back and forth to try and find the other car, and then yelled furiously when he realised he'd lost them. He glanced sideways at Sophia and felt the frustration burn through him. Her eyes were wide and terrified, her skin pale from fear now instead of fever, and he felt like the biggest failure in the world.


	21. Chapter 21

**AN…** I have been warned that this chapter kind of goes nowhere. Hopefully that won't disappoint anyone too much. Originally I'd thought to skip over this whole bit and jump the whole Randall thing, but when it came to writing it, after four attempts I gave up and just went back. Anyway, it's a Caryl chapter, so maybe you won't all be too upset with me ;)

Guest: Thank you! By the time I am through I think Merle and Sophia will be a unit no one can break apart. Tragic characters are so much easier to work with! Not too much depth with this one, but hope you like it anyway!

Remember, reviews are love! They make me want to keep writing!

Part Twenty-One

Daryl sometimes thought in these days to end all days, that no matter how often he washed, he was never going to get the feel of sweat off his flesh. He was never going to get rid of the stench of death from his hair and he wasn't ever going to get the pain of losing people out of his heart. He wasn't ashamed that he'd been sick with fear while waiting for Carol's little girl to stumble out of that barn. He'd held his gun aloft, knowing he'd have to blow her face away if no one else had the guts to do it, but when she'd not come out of there, all dead and rotting away, and Daryl had let down his guard, the whimper he'd heard from Carol as she flew at him and held onto him tight made him feel shame like he'd never known it before. Known it because no matter how far Carol had come to take comfort from him, it was his fault she needed it in the first place.

And then he felt ashamed for being angry with her, coming out to see the massacre when he'd left her at the RV, thinking she'd understand what it would do to him to have her see her daughter have to die a second time at the hands of one of the group. It didn't matter that it hadn't happened, that Sophia was nowhere in sight. It didn't matter that Carol had had to see for herself—had to _know _whether it was time to grieve finally or to continue tearing her own heart apart with the _not_ knowing. What mattered was that he was angry and fearful and every other fucked up emotion that could possibly tear him apart, and that she was at the centre of all of it.

Night had fallen a while back and he was settling on his own around the camp after having taken a dip in the lake to wash the horror of the day from his skin. His clothes were fresh, his face the cleanest it had probably been all day, and his hands felt odd without the layer of dirt that usually covered them and the first thought that came to his mind was that this would be the time to kiss Carol—the time to really give her something maybe not quite what she was worth, but close enough if she valued him half as much as she said she did. He wanted to kick his own ass for being so soft, for craving her touch when he'd spent the majority of his life fighting against anything like it.

He was ready to think he was daydreaming when he saw her walking from the house to the camp in the dark. Everyone was up at the house and his belly was growling from the lack of dinner being made and consumed in the camp. Dale had called down earlier to say that Hershel was missing and that Rick and Glenn had gone looking for him because the man's youngest daughter had collapsed. Daryl had spit in the dirt, disgusted with them all. Stupid old man was probably off drowning his sorrows—it's what he'd have done if his own wife and step-son had been taken out right in front of him. It wasn't Rick's place to go tearing off after him, though. If the idiot wanted to get killed—if he'd still not learned his lesson about the danger that surrounded them—then what did that have to do with the rest of them?

Carol finally arrived, placing a plate in his hand before deserting him to take one to Dale who was still on watch. She spoke quietly with the older man, allowing Daryl to almost inhale the food down in a rush before she came back. He still felt his irritation aimed at her roil around in his gut and he wasn't so sure he could trust himself if they had to talk, but with timing that made him curse, she was back as soon as he'd stepped away from his plate and he was caught before he could enter his tent and try to banish the image of kissing her from his head.

"Lori wants to know if you could go and find Rick and bring him back. Beth's not doing so well—we think she's in shock. She needs her father."

Daryl wasn't sure why the thought of Lori sending him out after Rick made him feel as sour as it did, but Carol saw it and before he could tell her to go tell Lori she could go to hell or go find her boy all on her own, Carol's hand settled against his bare arm and he froze.

"I brought a map and Maggie said we can take her car." She smiled at him and almost instantly Daryl felt better. Not absolved, but better than he had before. Then he processed her words and that anger was back and scratching at the back of his throat.

"The hell you mean, 'we'? I'll go on my own." He shrugged her hand off and made toward his bike, but before he reached it she was back in front of him, waving the map in her hand.

"He's gone a few towns over, to some place he used to go when he was young. You won't know the way without reading the map and it will be faster if I just go with you. I promise, I'm really good with maps. I can read them upside down and everything."

She made it too damn easy to want to be around her, he realised. He should hate her for it—and did a little—but it didn't stop him from giving in. With a roll of his shoulders, he swept up his crossbow and slung it across his back, then made his way to the elder daughter's car. Maggie. Hell, the girl must be beside herself with worry to be loaning out her car for the rescue effort. He paused when he realised Carol wasn't beside him, looking back to find her still standing in camp while he'd stretched the distance between them half way to the house. "Well, you comin' or what?" He hid a grin as she ran to catch up and then stifled a groan when her finger dug into his ribs and she bumped her shoulder against his.

"You want me to drive or read the map?"

Daryl had never been driven around by a woman in his life, and he wasn't about to break with that tradition any time soon. "You read the map," he said while giving her a dirty look and then got in the car. Carol dangled the keys out to him as she got into the passenger seat and then started unfolding the map. Daryl handed her his crossbow and she put it on her lap, smoothing the map out over the top of it.

The ride was quiet, Daryl barely grunting whenever Carol tried to start a conversation. He couldn't explain to himself why he felt so mad at the world, why he wanted to go out and kick the world's ass and take no prisoners. He knew Carol had thought she was getting through to him earlier in the day, as he'd relaxed with her body pressed into his at their training session and as he thought about her mouth against his throat, he raised a hand to rub against the hickey she'd given him. Shuddering at the startling flash of desire that hit him, he turned to look at the map in her lap.

"You worked out where we're goin' yet?" he asked harshly, one hand on the steering wheel as his other made to grab at the map and turn it so he could get a better look at it. "Thought you said you could read a map while standin' on your head?"

Carol laughed, amused at him and his attempted reversion back to the gruff, angry man he'd first come to their camp as. She wasn't sure if he realised it at all, but Carol knew there was no way he could go back to being that person. He'd shown her too much how he cared and even if he tried, kicking and screaming, Carol wasn't letting him go.

"I said I could read a map upside down, not while standin' on my head." She successfully wrestled the map away from him then looked up the same time as he returned his attention to the road. "Watch out," she screamed, then felt herself sliding as Daryl reacted to her rather than the walker in the road, slamming the brakes on and swerving before common sense kicked in and he hit the accelerator and ploughed straight through the body, hoping it was more dead once he'd run over it than it was before it stupidly wandered in front of the car.

Carol lurched forward, her head slamming into the windshield before Daryl had righted the car and taken the walker out. She bounced back into the seat as he'd accelerated, but now her head was bleeding and she could swear she saw stars. The car shuddered to a stop and Daryl was reaching across her, tossing the map out of the way and forcing his crossbow to the floor as he rushed to look at the damage, panic vibrating off of him as Carol's eyes dropped closed and blood dripped down her face.

"Carol? Carol, open your eyes," he ordered, voice hoarse and hands shaking as he strained to look at her properly. Another walker started banging against the side of the car, its feral features pressed against her window and Daryl was gripped within a powerful wave of fury. Ripping his door open, he ran around the car while unsheathing his knife and slammed it into the back of the walker's skull, wrenching it away from the car so he could open the door to get better access to Carol.

"Carol?"

She cracked open an eye and then groaned, closing it back up to shut out the pain. His voice sounded thick and distant and nausea rose up and pushed at her throat. With a superhuman effort, Carol lurched forward and shoved Daryl out of the way before she vomited in the road, blood slowly dripping from her face into the puddle. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, and then stumbled to her knees away from the car, forcing herself to take some deep breaths and try to stop her uncontrollable shivering.

Daryl dragged her up off the road and held her tight against his body and she didn't know if it was him shaking now or her.

"I guess that's why they put seat belts in those things, huh?" she said miserably against the pounding staccato rhythm in her head.

He held her away from his chest, his thumb swiping at the cracked wound on her forehead and doing little more than making her flinch and smearing her blood across her skin.

"I'm sorry."

Carol moaned, hating the self-accusation and blame that was completely transparent in the way he spoke and how he held her like she was about to break down the middle. She pulled herself out of his arms, her fingers clasped around his forearms, and she pushed her eyelids open so she could really see him. He looked more shit than her, she figured, and she grinned against the pain.

"I'm not goin' to blame you for walkers in the middle of the road, Daryl." She arched a brow, like she couldn't believe he'd even go there and then went back into the comfort of his embrace when the muscles of his face relaxed.

"You feelin' all right? Not seeing two of me or anythin'?" She went to shake her head but winced as a sharp pain stabbed viciously between her eyes.

"Other than the fact that my head hurts, I feel fine," Carol said truthfully. She'd get over a little pain in her head. She'd suffered broken bones in silence, in her previous life. A crack to the head wasn't about to upset her too much.

"Guess we really do need to find Hershel now, and get him to check out your head properly."

He wasn't looking at her, Carol noticed. His gaze was caught at her shoes and then he was taking her hand and gently directing her back to the car, this time dragging out the seatbelt and bending across her to snap it into place.

They were back on the road in minutes.

Carol reclaimed the crossbow off the floor at the first walker she spied as Daryl slowed before driving into town. He pulled over, turned off the headlights and looked up and down the main street, trying to decide what to do. It seemed quiet enough, until an unfamiliar truck came flying around a corner and sped past them with a sizeable number of walkers following the sound of the retreat. He waited, unwilling to take Carol into the midst of a possible herd—especially with the scent of her blood tainting the air around them—but now more than a little concerned about whether Rick, Glenn and Hershel were caught in the middle of it. He looked at the group of walkers as they ambled closer, biting his thumbnail as his elbow rested against the window. Just as he'd decided to risk it, Rick flew past in the Cherokee, going in a different direction from the one they'd just arrived, and he breathed in a deep sigh of relief. He watched the walkers for a few more minutes, surprised when another car screamed around the corner, knocking walkers out of the way with vicious abandon, slowed slightly at the intersection before turning up the way the truck had gone. Daryl decided to leave the headlights off, reversing up and following the two unfamiliar cars as fast as he thought safe.

He didn't dare look sideways this time, but when Carol moaned he smacked his hand on the steering wheel.

"Hell, I shoulda followed Rick."

Carol's hand curled around his arm and he quickly adjusted himself so he could steer with one hand and hang onto hers with the other, squeezing her fingers gently to reassure them both while squinting to keep the lights of the car up front in his sight.

"You made the right choice," Carol said, quieting his doubts. "We need to know where they're going. We can't let them find the farm."

Daryl drove on, finally slowing once he recognised they'd passed the turnoff to the farm, and watched the other car continue on out of sight.

"You think I should keep after 'em?" Daryl turned to look at her and could barely see her in the pitch black.

"It's not safe to go after them now. You'd need to use the lights. Let's just go back to the farm and let everyone know what's happened. At least we know Rick made it away from those walkers." Her speech started to slur toward the end and Daryl frowned, his concern about her head injury renewed.

"Need to get you back, anyway. Keep an eye on that head of yours."

She drifted off before he'd driven them through the two gates leading to the property and he left her in the car while he ran in to inform Lori and Shane that Rick narrowly escaped a small herd of walkers, driving off in another direction and would probably take some time to double back and make it back to the farm. Shane followed him back to the car where Daryl returned to collect Carol, and as they walked he filled the ex-cop in about the other two cars that had driven by too close to the turn off.

"Not sure she should be sleepin' with a head wound," Shane told him, nodding toward where Carol sat and Daryl bit his lip to stop an irritated outburst. He had no idea why Shane was suddenly so concerned about members of the group that weren't Lori and Carl, but it was all Daryl had in him to not yell at him to back off—that he had Carol covered.

"No shit," he said instead, his lip curling against saying more as he opened the door, removed the seatbelt and lifting a groaning Carol out of the car. "I'll sit with her until the others get back. I'll try an' keep her awake as much as I can."

Ignoring the lewd, knowing laughter that followed him, Daryl took her back to camp, then sat beside her on the bed in the RV and watched nervously, wondering how the hell he was going to keep her awake when he wanted to close his own eyes and drift off to sleep.


	22. Chapter 22

AN…This chapter is a long one with a few different viewpoints of what is going on during this part of the story. I hope you don't find it too distracting! It's all starting to come to a head, which means…a reunion is much closer than it was!

**Guest**: I feel I need to warn you, if you didn't like the interrogation scene on the show, you'll probably hate this as I've really dug into Daryl being the one to do it. It kind of disgusted me, too, so I wanted to give him a reason for it that wasn't just about fitting into the group by taking on the tasks the other two didn't want to. I hope it isn't too difficult to read, but if it is, I totally respect that.

Thank you so very much to everyone that reviewed this last chapter. I hope to reply to those comments after I manage to do a little more writing ;) I've still got that reunion scene to cover!

Twenty-Two

Bright shards of sunlight broke through the RV curtains and fell across Carol's face. In Daryl's mind it made her look angelic, being surrounded by a halo of brand new morning light, and he found he was unable to keep the smile from the corner of his lips. She shifted in her sleep, trying to get those stray bars of light from shining straight at her eyes, and in doing so she rolled onto her side and her hand flopped down on the bed right onto his. Daryl jumped, anxiety climbing rapidly to a lump at his throat, but as Carol's fingers unconsciously slid through his and laced their hands together, he decided to take a deep breath and let it go.

He wasn't sure how he'd ended up on the bed with her, other than knowing that watching her and trying to keep her awake through the night was a touch on the side of impossible if he was bedding down on the floor. He'd managed to have her talking coherently for hours once they'd arrived back to the farm, but even he'd had to concede that normal people without head injuries had to sleep sometime, and so about the time he allowed her to close her eyes for real, he'd done the same.

Now he was caught in another morning where they'd wake up together, side by side, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Still wasn't sure how he felt about the first time, waking up to her snuggled into his side in his tent, other than warm and content. He'd refused to talk to her that time, this time he didn't think he could avoid it. Things between them were moving fast—faster than he'd have ever thought possible for a man like him—and he was wary of it all going South if he didn't work it out in his head first.

He didn't know how he felt about Carol. From the start he'd seen her as a weak woman—a woman who'd accepted her licks without the backbone to get away from them. He'd never have condemned her for it, knowing what it was like to be so beat down you could barely stand back up, but it hadn't made her extraordinary to him. Not then. He'd known plenty of other women who'd had their hard luck stories—some with deeper scars, or habits, or pimps than hers—and they'd never left an impression on him that it was something they _shared._ In Carol he'd felt some kind of connection, and maybe it was the end of the world that had brought it forward and laid it at his feet, or maybe it was the end of the world that gave him permission to be ready for a woman like her, but it was something that he was unable to deny now that it was on him.

His opinion of her had changed with the loss of her daughter. He never really understood what kind of weakness allowed a woman to stay with a brutalising bastard—especially one who took it out on his kids—but he wondered if maybe the shock of violence from the one who'd claimed to love you chained you to the moment too many times to be able to ever break free. That the sweet promises of it being _the very last time _were enough of a seduction to give it one more chance. It's what he'd always thought his mother fell under—some sick as fuck spell his father had over her until she drank herself to apathy and set fire to her bed one night, leaving nothing but ashes for Merle and him to sift through.

He couldn't imagine that Carol had ever loved Ed, though. That man was meaner than a cut snake whereas Carol was the softest woman Daryl had ever known. But when she'd lost Sophia—when she'd collapsed within herself, allowing everything to break apart but then found some inner strength to pull it all back together—he knew she was the strongest woman alive. It hardly explained to him why he was beginning to feel about her the way he was, but he figured it was a start.

Her eyelids started to flicker and Daryl gently untangled his fingers from hers. He didn't want to have a conversation about why he was lying on a bed watching her as the morning played across her face. He didn't want to acknowledge how shit he felt that he was the one to put that colourful goose egg on her forehead. He didn't want to talk about why he'd been so angry yesterday, and why he wasn't today. What he wanted was to go back to that moment at the lake where she'd kissed his breath away, but it wasn't happening today. He wasn't even sure he should let it happen again. He'd already opened himself up too much to her, and he was afraid that if it continued, he'd have to hand over every last piece of himself and that was something he was sure no one would want.

Before she could open her eyes and have them dawn with questions, Daryl hefted himself up from the bed, preparing to leave.

"Daryl?"

He cursed under his breath, but turned to her, knowing he had no reason at all to treat her like shit now, especially when she was injured.

"What?" Not that he could break the habits of a lifetime in just a couple of days.

"Has Rick brought Hershel and Glenn back yet?"

"Haven't heard any cars. Was just gonna go talk to Shane and see if we need to mount a search party."

Carol sat up on the bed, her hair sticking up in spots and her shirt twisted around her body. She looked a little like her sleep had been tortured but he guessed there was no real reason for any of them to sleep easy anymore.

"You must be so tired of going out looking for people," she whispered, her eyes looking sad around her frown.

Oh, didn't he know it. He felt bone weary from the expectation that he'd go out there and haul each one of their asses home if they couldn't learn their own way back.

The sound of a car speeding down the farm road reached them and Daryl smiled softly at her.

"Looks like I finally miss out on one. Come on. Let's go hear where Rick's been all night."

Carol stood and quickly stuffed her feet into her shoes, running her fingers through her hair. "I must look a fright," she admitted nervously, wishing she could dive in front of a mirror to fix her rapidly growing hair.

"No more than usual," Daryl said, then showed some wisdom and hopped out of the RV as fast as his legs could carry him, grinning at Carol's laughter as she followed along behind.

* * *

"That's Randall." Glenn had said it like they'd brought home a stray kitten.

Shane had had a bad feeling about the kid as soon as Rick had pulled him from the car. Blindfolded and wounded, the boy had seemed delirious with pain, but it didn't take much for Shane to become suspicious of a person travelling with a group of men with serious weaponry. Five men in all for just one encounter. It made Shane nervous as hell and he couldn't help but feel an edge of panic flow through his system. Didn't take him long to know what kind of threat Rick had pulled in from the cold.

"Why the hell would you bring him here?" After all they'd been through, after the monumental effort Shane was making to not give in to the darkness that wanted to take over, Rick still didn't get the bigger picture. Outsiders couldn't be trusted and they certainly couldn't be brought into the fold and given access and information about their people to take back to another group. A dangerous group.

"His people left him for dead—"

"Hell, they showed more sense than you, Rick," Shane exploded, furious that his friend was being so blind.

"He's no threat to us," Rick yelled stubbornly in his face and Shane took a step back before he could release the fist he wanted to slam into his friend's face. Once his priority would have been to seek out Lori and Carl, to reassure himself that everything he did was for them, but this time as he surveyed the group, the first person he saw was Carol—the sadness in her eyes a reminder of how they'd all lost her girl—and he was grounded a lot sooner than he'd expected.

"Come on, man! Of course he's a threat," Shane drawled, back in control. He rubbed a hand impulsively across his shorn hair and tried to think how best to make his point. "We know nothin' about this kid. We don't know the group he runs with. Not everyone out there is good people now, Rick. If we don't start takin' better care with who we're trustin', we might as well give up now."

His friend seemed to consider what he said, and then he nodded, but the action looked like it pained him. "His friends wanted this farm and they'd have killed us to do it. We definitely need to know more about them." He stood, thinking for a minute, looking one by one at the group as they all stood in Hershel's front room, everyone clean and fed and rightfully scared that he might have just delivered a snake into the chicken coop.

Hershel arrived with news from where he had been working to put Randall's leg back together, entering into a room fraught with nerves. "He'll need at least a week to heal, maybe two."

Rick nodded, a decision made. "We'll keep him in the barn. In a week we'll give him some provisions and drop him off somewhere a good distance from here."

A week later that plan had proven a bust and the result of the abandoned drop had them gathered in Herschel's front room once again, Shane and Rick sporting bruises over a fight that had almost gotten them both killed. Randall's slip that he knew Maggie had united the friends for a few minutes until conflict again arose over their different responses to the threat. Shane wanted the kid dead, the threat gone once and for all, whereas Rick needed to work his way up to a decision like that, and no amount of talking down from anyone was going to calm Shane's fear that hesitation would get them all killed.

"We need to know more, Shane. I can't condemn a man to death unless I know for sure he'd kill us if he had the chance."

"And how the hell are we meant to find that out? You think he's going to tell the God's honest truth about wantin' to kill every last one of us?" Shane's temper was exploding all over the room as he paced back and forth, feeling desperate for Rick to see sense. "You think we'll know when he says he's innocent that it's not a lie? Come on, bro. You got to see some reason. You got to grow some balls and rely on your gut."

Rick was lost, searching faces around him in an effort to find an answer, any answer, as long as it would shut Shane up and still the swirling panic inside him. He didn't know how they could find out for sure, and that's when his shoulders slumped in defeat. He was going to have to face the fact that Shane was right. This kid had been with a group that would rather kill them and take everything they had than approach them in a way that would result in friendship and sharing and survival. Rick had recognised it at once in the bar and hadn't even thought about it when he'd drawn his gun and shot both men without remorse. He'd been protecting his family first, the group second, but above all, he'd known in his gut those men had been threats to them. Randall was with that group, so it didn't take a rocket scientist to draw the right conclusions, but once air had settled on his previous actions, and he was thinking clearly with his humanity dangling from his sleeve, it wasn't so easy to pull the trigger again in the cold light of day.

"Daryl," he said, seizing an opportunity toward action. "Can you have a talk with him? Maybe you can get somethin' out of him that we'd miss."

Daryl looked startled, then slowly he nodded his head, his eyes narrowed in on the self-proclaimed head of their group. He wasn't quite sure how he'd usurped Shane with that job, and now he was wondering even more. He hated to admit it but he thought Shane had a better grip on what the world outside their group was like and if Shane was in charge, Randall would have been a distant memory by now.

Rick seemed satisfied that something was going to be done and he'd postponed a final decision yet again, so without saying another word, he headed out the door, signalling that the discussion was finished. The rest of them filed slowly out of Hershel's house and headed back to camp.

* * *

Carol caught hold of his arm as he was heading into the woods. She was panting when he swung around, having run right across the field after him.

"Why would you agree to do that?" she asked him straight out before he'd even been able to reconcile that her hand was resting against his arm and his heart was already in his throat.

Daryl blinked, confused. "Agree to what?"

"Rick and Shane are perfectly capable of questioning someone. They should be used to interrogating people, for God's sake. Why would they ask you?"

Understanding dawned and he suddenly felt uncomfortable. Words weren't forming fast enough and he flinched at the look of disappointment Carol was unable to hold from her face.

"This don't concern you," he replied, shrugging her hand off and leaving her to her concerns and judgements.

"How can you say that?" she appealed and while he watched he saw tears form in her eyes. "You concern me and I hate that Rick is asking you to do this. He's using you…like you're his…henchman," she accused, and Daryl felt anger boil along his veins.

"I ain't nobody's henchman," he hissed, shrugging off her touch before leaving her to head into the woods. "I ain't none of your concern, neither."

He knew it was wrong the second he disappeared from her view.

* * *

Daryl had never had trouble using his fists.

Merle had taught him how the minute he was standing on the shaky legs of a toddler, knowing somehow that even though raising a fist to their father might have been a suicidal act, he'd need to feel some kind of control over the rest of his life. Brawling was second nature to the Dixon clan, and grazed knuckles by this stage of his life was something Daryl barely even registered.

He wasn't so stupid that he didn't get why he was the one in the barn chatting with their newest visitor. Despite what they'd already had to do to protect the group, Shane and Rick were still partially bound by some ethic of law enforcement and Daryl was right outside of that bullshit.

The kid, Randall, was whiny as hell but Daryl couldn't blame him. The kid knew he was at the end of the line and would probably be dead come morning. At least, Daryl hoped he knew that because if there was one thing he had no patience with it was dumb as fuck white boys. He'd seen the writing on his own wall his whole damned life, weren't no reason why others shouldn't have been similarly enlightened.

"How many in your group?" he demanded again, his fist stinging from his previous attempts to loosen the information out of the kid, along with a few teeth. He raised it again, getting ready to deliver a glancing blow as Randal cowered away from the violence, whimpering like a little kid. He took no satisfaction in forcing the answers from him, continuing to use his fists only to make sure he had the answers to return to the camp. At least, not until his eyes glazed over at a memory, and his slick, saccharine voice painted a picture of two innocent young girls being raped repeatedly by the men in the group while they forced the father to watch their depravity. Daryl didn't need anything else, seeing fully the sick, twisted reality of these other people and knowing that if they allowed this kid to escape, they'd better gear themselves up to run. This kid was trash through and through—maybe not born that way but definitely embracing this new world where using force on a woman was the new way in a world with dwindling numbers. Bile rose in Daryl's throat as he imagined Carol and Lori and Andrea and every other woman he'd ever known being brutalised by a band of immoral assholes and he knew without a doubt this boy would have to die. Shane had been right all along and Rick would just have to suck it up and do it. Hell, put the gun in his own hand and Daryl would happily pull the trigger.

He laid in a few kicks as a parting gift, picked up his crossbow and left the barn, making sure the door was carefully secured behind him. He wasn't sure how he'd arrived here—in this place and in this situation—but now the protection of the group from this threat seemed like the most important thing in his life. Keeping Carol safe and away from this kind of trash had to be his priority.

He was emotionally unprepared for her look of disappointment when she saw his hands, asking him what he'd done like the whole camp hadn't had a clue why Rick had asked him to interrogate the boy. He'd accepted it as his role in the group when he'd entered that barn, smashing that kid's face in so they could get at the truth, but now that he saw her face and the way she turned away from him he wondered why he was so quick to accept being the muscle in the group. Why _he'd_ been the one to do the heavy lifting.

As her eyes had drifted away from him, Daryl looked around at the others and saw acceptance. Approval. It wasn't a new thing—he'd been slowly realising they saw him as more than the dumb as shit redneck that had attached himself to the group, but it still seemed to come as a surprise and he was trying to decide how he felt about it. He'd thrown his lot in with these people the minute he'd packed up his tent and headed to the CDC with them, knowing that without Merle, this wasn't a world he could survive in on his own anymore. But, as he spent more time around people, as he'd spent more time with Carol, he started to realise that the desperate need to keep himself apart from others would be impossible. And he'd allowed it. Almost welcomed it as it gave him a sense of belonging he'd never had before. Carol's turning away at the sight of his cracked and bleeding knuckles worried him and he didn't have the first clue what to do about it.

"Our boy's got a gang of about thirty men with some serious hardware and they ain't lookin' to make friends. They come through here our boys are dead, and the women will wish they were." He'd wanted to frighten her with the truth, lay it right out there that these men would think nothing of going to Hershel's house, raping Maggie and Beth and making Hershel sit and watch as every one of the thirty men broke those two girls, but when the truth even made him sick to his stomach he knew she'd never forgive him for planting that kind of evil in her mind for the rest of her life. Hell, he'd probably not be able to forgive himself.

"We have no choice, then," Rick confirmed, head bowed and jaw flexing painfully. "We'll end it tonight."

"What?" Dale stepped forward, horrified as the events unfolded in a decisiveness that had so far been missing. "You can't condemn a man to death just because of something he _might _do."

"We ain't in a world no longer where we can wait and see, old man. He's runnin' with people doing some serious shit and I don't give a fuck how you want to protect yours, but I ain't standin' by lettin' him lead those assholes right back to us."

Dale was shaking his head, stubbornly refusing to hear Daryl's determination to keep them safe when it came at the detriment to the one thing they had left to cling to. One element of their former society that would differentiate them from the scum of the world as being the people that would always stand up for good.

"We can't just execute a man before he's even done the crime. How can we claim to be the good in this world when we're out there slaughtering our adversaries before we even know they mean us harm?"

"Weren't you listenin' to me? That little shit over there went with his group, found two young girls hidin' out with their daddy and participated in a gang rape right in front of the poor bastard. You want that to happen to Andrea? To Lori and Carol? This ain't a question of maybe, it's a question of when, an' I ain't sittin' around debatin' on the finer points of humanity if killin' that kid will mean _my _people stay safe."

Daryl spun on his heel, stomping away from the camp and into the woods where he could give in to his righteous anger, and try to obliterate that last look of fear and revulsion he'd seen on Carol's face as he'd delivered his parting thoughts. He didn't know if it was him or his story that had stirred up such powerful emotions in her, but he wasn't hanging around to find out.

* * *

Carol felt a curious numbness creep into her soul as she watched Daryl stride away. Daryl had painted a vivid picture of what might befall them should Randall ever find his way back to his own people, and if she was truthful, she wasn't fully behind Dale's point of view or Daryl's, content enough to accept that something had to be done. Something that meant death to a boy who was barely twenty; Carol thought she could live with that. What she couldn't live with was Daryl taking on that responsibility and having it possibly change who he was deep down.

From the second Rick had asked him to get the truth out of the boy, she'd known that there was an assumption of violence—of ugliness in Daryl's character—that Rick had seized upon in order to hide from his own. She hated that Daryl had gone along with it, accepted it as his due, and now the flesh of his fists were bloodied and broken. She'd seen the approval of the camp, seen how they'd all accepted that this was how Daryl was and if they needed the dirtiness of their new lives to be exposed, then Daryl was apparently the man to do it.

Except he wasn't. Carol didn't profess to know much—she'd spent half her life mistaken about men and their motivations—but in the past few weeks there was one thing she could be sure about knowing, and that was Daryl and the capacity of his heart. He wasn't a thug, he wasn't the rough, violent redneck that would fly off the handle and kill anyone if they looked at him sideways. It was a persona he'd adopted to keep himself a safe distance from people—an expectation that had kept him at the side of his brother—but she knew if he had such evil in his heart he'd have put a stop to his own father before the man had managed to lay as many scars on Daryl's soul as he had. He'd have killed someone at the quarry camp for leaving his brother behind on a roof. He'd have left them all long before they'd packed up and headed to the CDC, and he'd not have felt so _goddamned much_ when he was out searching for her little girl.

This world was harsh and hateful in so many ways now and it was all Carol could do to keep a level head. She dismissed Dale's reasoned argument to award Randall his right to life, knowing that one way or the other, she wasn't sharing an opinion or participating in the ultimate decision—and why had Rick made the call and then allowed Dale time to go and change all of their minds? His lack of direction was making her dizzy.

"Carol, are you with me on this?"

She faced Dale, tearing her eyes from the area of the woods where Daryl had disappeared. Shaking her head, she stared him down and knew that she couldn't support him. The world he'd known was dead, and while once she'd have hoped she'd have the guts to support a viewpoint one way or the other, Carol knew that apathy was the only thing that could protect her now. But then Dale was attacking her, shouting at her that she was just as responsible for killing a man by doing nothing, by making no decision, and finally she'd had enough.

"No, Dale. No, I can't be with you on this. I have to go with what will keep us all safe. Don't we already have enough to fight about without fighting about this as well?"

Lips trembling, Carol fought against this shroud of anger and darkness that was starting to blanket them all. Killers. That's what they were becoming while trying to stay alive. The only question now: who was going to pull the trigger?


	23. Chapter 23

AN… I feel kind of nervous posting this chapter. The last chapter didn't receive a whole lot of love—though thankfully those that did let me know what they liked about it made up for the lack of response. This is all Merle and Sophia, so while I love writing their interaction, I completely understand a Caryl fic without any Caryl in the chapter might be a little ho-hum for some. I have my fingers crossed that it is as essential a read to you as it was to me. Moving right along, I'm in the process of writing the reunion scene—it will be chapter twenty-seven. Of course, how fast I get there depends on how enthused I am to write. Sadly, right now it's been a bit of a struggle.

I want to do a shout out for a fic at the moment that I think is absolutely AMAZING and isn't getting the love it deserves. The last chapter is one of the most incredible I've ever read. Give Tethered by Samiwammy a read. It isn't pure fluff—has real guts and meaning to it. Seriously, if you love reading something that makes you feel deeply, this is the one for you!

**Part Twenty-Three**

Sophia was nervous being back in the woods. Merle had decided that half her weakness now was due to hunger, so he'd decided it was time to find food and the best way Merle knew how to find food was to forage the forest for it. She could remember back to the camp at the quarry when his brother Daryl would go hunting, but Merle was never the one to come back with the string of squirrels over his shoulder, so she'd never realised he could hunt as well. Stupid, now that she thought about it, especially when Merle kept saying he'd taught his baby brother everything he knew.

When he'd finally trapped an animal, they'd left the woods and went house to house, Merle going to the backyard of at least five of them before he finally settled on one. In Sophia's mind it wasn't the most secure, but when he started pulling at the dirt of a garden bed and foraging around for other surprises she realised he was still in food search mode and she almost squealed with delight when he produced a few carrots and some potatoes. There was even an onion, though she wanted to turn her nose up at that one. He found a cooking pot in the kitchen of the house and then proceeded to build a fire in the corner of the front yard, hidden by a tall metal fence and some bushes. She could recognise the strategical advantage, should they need to run in a hurry, and Sophia was surprised at how much she was learning about how to survive from being with Merle.

Later, as he handed her a bowl and she started in on the delicious stew, she was amazed that he could cook as well. She'd never known men could cook. Her daddy certainly never had, at least, not that she could remember.

"Tomorrow we're gonna start searchin' the farms," Merle said into the comfortable silence and Sophia paused with her fork halfway to her mouth.

"I thought you said the farms you'd seen so far had been overrun with walkers?" Her voice was small, filled with fear and her small hand began to shake.

"Don't go worryin'. I won't get us into any trouble. Jus'…I have a feelin' they're here somewhere and we've looked at all the houses and newer areas and the woods as much as we can. It's time to hit the properties—maybe they found a good one that's fenced off. Maybe they're with that old man we saw at the bar. He looked like the farmer type."

Sophia nodded but stayed quiet. Finding her mom had become something of a painful pipedream by now. It had been at least a week since they'd almost hooked back up with Carl's dad in the town, and she knew that Merle was still struggling to control his rage at losing them when they'd broken through the herd of walkers only to find that Rick's car had disappeared. She wondered what they were going to do if they never found the others, if Merle was going to look after her forever or if he was going to dump her somewhere and move on.

"What's that frown for?" He'd finished eating ages before her and had been poking at the fire coals, spreading them out to slowly kill the flames. It was warm out so they didn't need a fire to stave off the cold, not that Merle had ever let her sleep outside anyway. When he was tired they slept in the car so she could keep watch, never more than a couple of hours at a time, but he said it was the best way for her to stay safe when he could close his eyes for a little while. Sometimes it was hard for her to keep hers open as well, but after all he'd done for her, she forced herself to try her best.

"I was just wondering," she said hesitantly, looking down at the dirt at her feet and frowning at her filthy sneakers. "What if we never find them? What are you going to do with me?"

The hard look Merle wore almost as a source of pride slipped from his face, and Sophia smiled as his eyes softened and he reached out to grab her hand. "Won' be doin' nothin' with you but makin' sure you don' turn into a biter and you eat your greens…providin' I find us any," he winked, and she giggled quietly in relief.

The sky began to darken and Merle stood and kicked dirt over the remaining coals, dousing them out so they could move on. Sophia picked up her bowl, about to take it into the house when Merle took it off her.

"Ain't no point takin' it back inside. Ain't no one around to miss it." He left it on the ground beside his own but put the remaining meal in a container he'd found in the kitchen for them to eat a little later. "Come on then. Best get movin'."

Sophia hurried along behind Merle, grabbing at the back of his shirt while she looked left and right, her eyes still a little panicked when they were out in the open. The memory of being bitten from behind before she'd barely heard the dead moan of her attacker never quite left her, and so fear wasn't something she was ever quite able to shake, even if she had managed to clamp down the urge to scream every time a walker came near. Merle lifted his arm for her to sneak under and he held her to his side, his confident stride back to the car doing more to still her worry than anything else could do.

She breathed much easier once they made it back to the car, and even though she knew walkers couldn't open the door handles, she still locked her door. Merle started the engine and as soon as he pulled away, she could see them coming out onto the street, enticed by the noise of the car. She counted eight of them before they'd left the street behind and the awful realisation of how close those walkers had been to them as they'd cooked their meal made her stomach churn. Sophia put her hand over her stomach and willed the sick feeling away, knowing Merle wouldn't be happy if she upchucked the meal he'd just provided for her.

Merle looked across at her, his eyes briefly betraying concern before his chin hardened and something else started going on in his head.

"You see what happened when they told my brother I wasn' comin' back to camp?"

Sophia swallowed hard, remembering that day vividly. Other than Ed, she'd never seen anyone else so angry, so bent on violence and retribution as Merle's brother, Daryl. Thinking about it again, now, she thought she recognised a bit more of the pain that had been ignored at the time, everyone more concerned about the level of violence Daryl might unleash on the camp and the wickedly sharp blade on the knife he'd pulled on Rick.

"He was really upset," she said, slowly, remembering the event like a movie reel in her mind. "I was out front of the RV with my mom, and Carl and his mom. Daryl attacked Carl's dad, but Shane…they stopped him before he could use his knife." She turned wide eyes on Merle, understanding better now the pain he must have felt at losing his only relative in this horrible world now that she'd lost hers. "He was really upset and scary so T-Dog, Rick and Glenn agreed to go back with him to get you, and then when they all came back after not finding you, there were walkers everywhere." Her voice choked on a sob, the fear she'd felt seeing Amy being bitten and the others being slaughtered while her mom tried to protect her in the tight circle of her arms swam back far too clearly behind her eyes. "That's when my daddy died."

Merle reached across and dragged her into his side and Sophia was helpless against the onslaught of fear and grief as it swept over her in a tidal wave of tears.

"You're not cryin' for that shit for brains that was your daddy, are ya?"

"No," she agreed miserably. "I really liked Amy, and it was all really scary. My mom put a pickaxe through daddy's head. I heard Daryl telling Rick about it." She looked up at Merle and her eyes were swimming with tears. "I'm glad he's dead. He weren't nothing but awful to us."

Merle nodded, his lips pursed in an amused pout. "Firs' thing I'd planned to do when I got back from that run was slap that jackass down."

Sophia looked up in surprise and giggled. "Don't worry. Shane got him good. His face was all purple and blue and black and I think his eye was yellow. That's why he was in the tent when the walkers came."

Merle laughed. "That Shane mighta been all right then," he conceded as he let her go.

Merle didn't like to travel quiet. He'd been beside himself with glee when he'd checked the sound system of the car he'd hotwired and found an old Lynyrd Skynyrd CD ready to play. Sophia liked listening to him as he sang loudly along; it made him more human and less the frightening man she'd first met at the quarry camp. She was a little shocked at this Merle she'd spent the last weeks with. After watching him around camp—with a huge chip on his shoulder, an inability to be still or connect with anyone but his brother while under the influence of something that wasn't natural—she'd thought he was the devil's kin.

"Merle?" Sophia had to shout over the top of the music and was relieved when Merle reached across to turn it down. "Why'd they cuff you to the roof in the first place?"

* * *

That fateful day he'd been struck in the back of the head by the newcomer and handcuffed to a rusty pipe on the roof of a department store had been one that had played over and over in his head for just about every day since. Merle knew he was an asshole—his own brother had told him frequently enough, though others outside of his family had said the same but with much stronger, hate-filled language—it certainly wasn't any kind of secret, and not something he'd ever felt the desire to change. A brand he'd been mostly happy to honour.

He wasn't some Oprah-watching pansy-assed little bitch but he felt reasonably comfortable recognising that he was a broken individual. He'd spent his life in pain—it was physical as a child, his daddy using his strap and fists and anything else he could find within reach, and once those visible scars had settled, his pain had transferred to the emotional. No matter what he'd tried to do to bury it, only ended up making it worse. Joining the army had exposed him in new ways—his inner rage had exploded beyond his control and so Merle had found himself in more situations than he could count where he'd bottomed out completely, until the court-martial had robbed him of his purpose and he was out on his ass in the cold. Again. He'd spent his life drifting in and out—of Daryl's life, a drug or alcohol-induced haze, jail, a woman's thighs. None of it had centred him, and Merle realised now that what he'd needed all along was a _reason_ to live. He'd been a survivor all his life, but not once had he wanted to live. Not once had he wanted to do anything but wallow in his own broken promises of life—deserted by his momma, damn near killed by his daddy, a regular bastard and failure for his little brother…it had all led to a rooftop in the middle of another high, and someone stronger than him—faster and smarter than him—had taken away his options and left him for dead.

When he'd been found by the Governor—given medical treatment, a job, a gun and some respect—he'd thought he'd finally been handed a purpose. He quickly realised he was little more than a thug in the man's eyes, and Merle had toed that line as far as it would go in order to stay alive. To survive. Because that's what he did—no matter what substance or situation could get him there. He'd just about vibrated with pain the entire time he'd been within that town—his ruined hand, his broken spirit, his development as a murderer to keep his own life flowing, the loss of his brother. Shook with it so much that some nights he thought he'd overflow with pain.

Losing Daryl had hurt more than Merle had ever admitted to himself before. Struck him hard in the gut as the Devil yanked his soul out with his bare hands. He might have run away to the army, or been locked away in jail, or even passed out in some whore's bedroom while liquid love thundered through his veins, but not once had he lost the choice to contact his brother in whatever way he could. Now, for all he knew Daryl was dead, and Daryl probably thought Merle definitely was. His brother thinking him dead hurt more than Merle wanted to acknowledge, feeling fear about what kind of freedom that would give Daryl to let all their years together go. If he was gone, would Daryl still love him, or would he be relieved that Merle was out of his life for good?

He'd be the very last man on earth who could ever admit that a slip of a girl could have given him the purpose he'd needed to live in this world. He wasn't just surviving anymore. This girl had forced him to form a relationship with another human being that wasn't his own blood, and they'd been together long enough now for him to know that his life would never be the same again, no matter how it all played out. She'd given him a fire in his belly to succeed that the drugs never had, a purpose that the army had failed to instil, and she gave him the acceptance that not one other person in his sorry life had ever offered toward him. At first it broke him further, to see her faith in him, the blind understanding that he was the one thing in this world keeping her safe. She was counting on him, not unlike Daryl had when he was a kid, but this time, Merle knew he'd be unable to ever turn his back. He was stuck with Sophia, and he didn't hate it.

So, when she asked him why he'd been left on that roof, he had to think hard to remember the asshole he'd been back then because he thought that, more than a little bit, the kid had irrevocably changed him. Of course, it had only been a few weeks since they'd been on the run, and maybe it was a bit soon for him to make such sweeping assumptions on the quality of his own character, but Merle was beginning to like being around Sophia so much he was entertaining the possibility of giving up the search entirely.

He put that thought to bed almost the instant it crossed his mind. There was no quitting looking for Daryl. The boy was his only family, his only blood, and while Sophia was an addition he'd not mind have hanging around permanently, she couldn't replace the bond he shared only with his brother.

"That was a whole other life, kid," he said, finally, and could tell immediately the answer was too brief to give her any satisfaction.

"The group talked about it. They said you were high and you were acting like an asshole." She looked at him in accusation and be damned if he felt like she'd just stabbed him in the eye and spit on his boot. For the first time since he'd been forced to cut off his own hand to survive, Merle felt shame splinter away in his guts. Shame for being so weak that he needed dope to get through his day, shame for getting into a situation where he'd had to leave his brother behind, shame for falling in with an evil bastard like the Governor. It was all tied back into that day and once he'd been forced into the cruellest detox imaginable at Woodbury, he'd buried all existence of that kind of feeling—until now.

"You kiss your momma with that mouth?" he asked, trying to stall. She just stared at him, her eyes open wide with expectation that he'd tell her his version of the story. He was sad to say, he thought the group's version of events was probably pretty accurate.

"Yeah, I was high as a kite an' only half as free. Officer Friendly put a stop to everythin' right quick and handcuffed me to that roof. That other ni… T-Dog? He dropped the damn key down a drain and then ran like the weak little pussy he is. Not much to tell after that 'less you're wantin' all the gory details."

"Why are you so different now?" she asked, timid and not for the first time he was grateful she'd gotten over her fear of him pretty early on.

It was what he'd been asking himself for a while now. Was he really changing or would he be the same redneck dumb as shit asshole he'd been accused of being his whole life the minute they found the group and he attempted to settle back amongst them—providing they'd let him. He came bearing gifts, however, so Merle thought he had at least half a chance. If they didn't, and Daryl decided to not come away with him, he wasn't sure what he'd do. He was too afraid to even consider what he actually _wanted _to do. He wasn't too accustomed to getting the things in life that he thought, deep down, he really wanted. He'd never actually lowered himself enough to _ask. _Had he changed enough for them to let him stay, and find value at all in what he had to offer?

"Not so sure I am, kid. Not so sure I am."

Silence stretched out between them, Merle turning off the main roads and starting to wind through more remote side roads in an attempt to work out where they were going to start their new search. Where they could make some kind of base away from the constant threat of walkers. There was a dearth of little country houses to choose from and so it ended up that Merle just chose one randomly. The house stood empty but still he was hesitant to bring all their supplies inside in case they'd have to leave in a hurry.

Sophia stuck with him as he did a sweep of the house, dropping the one small bag of supplies in the front room where they'd be staying, the car backed up right to the front steps. They moved further through the house, Merle locating the kitchen and curling his nose up at the rotten smells coming from opened cans of what smelled sickeningly like rotted fish. The back door was standing wide open and before he was able to kick it shut, Sophia had run through it, a childish little giggle rushing past her lips as she twirled in the green grass of the back yard. Merle dutifully glanced around and found themselves in a walker-free zone for the time being, and expelled an exhausted sigh of relief. He sat on the steps and just let himself breathe the clean, country air and then looked around at the unkempt garden, wondering what kind of people had lived in this place. Whether there had been children.

And then he saw it, and it left him stunned how fast his thoughts shot back to Daryl.

* * *

"Well now, wouldya take a look at that." Merle's sing-song voice took on a tone that Sophia didn't recognise as he looked at a bush of white flowers. They were out the back of an old house, the yard clear and pretty while the house itself had seen better days. He'd been sitting on the back steps, watching over her as she'd twirled around the yard, looking for fruit trees then just giggling for the amount of space and freedom she could fool herself into thinking could exist, if only for a few minutes.

Then he'd taken off, striding to the rose bush before plucking out a flower from the thorns.

"This here's a thing of beauty called a Cherokee Rose. You know what it's tellin' me, Sophia?"

She shook her head, having no clue what a useless flower could possibly be telling him that he hadn't heard from anywhere else. "This here flower jus' told me we're gonna find them, and soon. Thank fuck for that. Now let's go get set up and eat."

Merle brought the flower with him, grinning wide as he walked back to the house, a spring to his step that gave Sophia a renewed sense of hope. He'd been right about everything so far, so when he said they were close to finding her mom and his brother, who was she to contradict him?

Didn't mean she completely understood this incredible power that a single bloom had over him.

"Merle?" she called, running after him as fast as she could even though she was still a little weak. Hope seemed to make a habit of improving just about everything. "How'd that flower tell you that?"

He laughed out loud and Sophia skidded to a halt. She'd never heard Merle laugh before—she'd seen him grin, release a surprised guffaw when she'd least expect it, but laugh out loud at something in a carefree manner—in a way that suggested he was happy—well, she'd never seen him do _that_. He turned and saw her standing in the middle of the yard, laughing again at the look of awe on her face as she stared up at him. He tapped the side of his nose with a finger and winked.

"Daryl's the storyteller in our family," he confided with a grin. "I'll let him to tell ya'll about it when we find 'em."


	24. Chapter 24

A/N… This was a highly emotional chapter to write. There is Caryl, there is Dale, there is Randall and just all round sadness. *Sniffle**

I want to thank you all for sticking with this fic and for all your wonderful words. There are a number of guest commenters in the last chapter, so I can't distinguish you all that well but…

Guest2: Tethered is an amazingly beautiful, well written fic, and not the only one on the site. I am very happy to say that the standard of writing in this fandom is outstanding.

Guest 2: It was so hard to not introduce the Cherokee Rose story at the beginning because it's such a huge element of the show, but it just didn't really fit except for hints. To me, the fact that Daryl is so passionate and knowledgeable about the story and the meaning of the flower indicates that it isn't just something he's read or watched on TV, so it made sense to me that Merle has been regaled with the meaning of it growing up as well. Its half in my head that they have a Native American relative, what with all their affinity with nature, but I know very little about how that would mesh with redneck culture as a whole. Any opinions on this are very welcome!

Guest 3: I don't think I can stop writing Merle. He's dug his claw in and dug in deep! But I thank you greatly, because dialogue is something I've always seen as my weakest link. I can't tell you how wonderful it feels to think people find it works.

Guest 4: I know exactly what it is like to get completely sucked in to a story and find it hasn't been updated for a year. In my previous fandom it would make me want to scream, so it means a tremendous amount that you are giving this a go before I reach the end. I was kind of picturing the halfway mark to be around when Merle and Sophia finally reunite with the group—which is chapter 28 and yes, it is written. It was hellish, actually, but it's done. As for crotchety Merle…I really seem as toned down around kids. When he's off the stuff, and he has little influence around to make him aggressive, I see him very much more like Daryl. That can all change on the wind when he meets up with the group, though. I hope I can do him justice then and that you will still continue to enjoy how I write him.

Thank you ALL for taking the time to review. You truly do make me want to keep writing until my fingers fall off!

Twenty-Four

_And in my hour of darkness, and in my hour of need, please take that final step inside and hold me while I bleed..._

She'd felt cold all afternoon. Dale's pleas had failed, the boy was to be killed that night, and Carol watched as Shane, Rick and Daryl dragged Randall to the barn, determination in each of their swift, confident strides. She wanted to scream, wanted to say the one thing that could stop it all from staining them with a blemish that none would ever be able to remove, but as usual she stayed silent, incapable of standing up, of being counted.

The farm was a darkness made up of shadows, and while Carol trained her eyes on the barn, her body beginning to shake with fear and sorrow, she saw Carl slip from the shadows of the camp and creep toward the shadows clinging to the barn. Without thinking she set off after him, grabbing his arm and snapping him back before he could take another step. They were barely a few feet from the open barn door when she caught him, the light from within spilling out onto the dirt just in front of them.

"What is wrong with you?" she hissed at him, both disgusted in his morbid curiosity and saddened by his wilfulness to seek out this ugliness that was now their life. "This is not a situation for young boys. Go back to camp and stay with your mother."

Carol blinked at the defiance in Carl's eyes, but she wasn't taking no for an answer. They'd all had to change, to accept this new style of life, but it didn't mean that a child had to be exposed to something as awful as a killing—even if it was a killing for their sake. She didn't break his stare, and finally Carl backed down, running in the direction of camp. Carol sighed deeply, then decided she needed to warn Rick that his own son had wanted to come and watch him kill another human being, like it was some kind of spectator sport. Maybe it would stay his hand and make him think more on what he was doing—on what kind of message he was passing down to his child.

The scene that greeted her as she stepped through the doors made her cry out in horror. It wasn't Rick who held the gun, but Daryl. Held it against the skull of a boy barely a man who sobbed and whimpered for his life. There was a cold, hard glint in his eye and he stood fearless before the two ex-cops as he prepared to put a bullet in the brain of a kid, and Carol couldn't stop the weakness she felt as she collapsed against the door. She stared right at him, feeling sickened and confused, but her words were for Rick.

"Rick, I just stopped your boy from busting in here," she said, her hand clutching her throat as if it could do anything to stop the tears from clogging it. "He wanted to watch you end someone's life. Are ya'll happy now?"

Daryl lowered the gun, but he refused to look at Carol. "This has to be done," he said into the stillness left over from her words, and cringed at the shocked breath she took.

"You give me one good reason why it has to be done by you?"

He looked up then and felt the impact of her haunted gaze. "Because Rick can't."

Her eyes swept from one man to the next, her head starting to shake with conclusions Daryl felt helpless to stop her making as her tears began to fall. "And Shane? Or are you just trying to share the burden of taking a man's life?"

"Knock it off, Carol," Daryl exploded, moving until he was standing less than a foot from her. "I'm the only one here's never killed someone. You think it's fair for me to never get my hands dirty and let them do it all?"

She shook her head but he ignored her, the frustration of this whole situation making them all react more emotionally than usual.

"What? Are you all keeping score? You better hurry up, Daryl, so you can get on the damn board." Her voice cracked and the tears ran down her cheeks, feeling for all the world like her heart and her faith had been broken. "What's the grand prize, anyway?"

Rick and Shane stared at her like she'd lost her mind and Carol wondered in that instant if maybe she had. She wouldn't be the first woman to lose part of herself when losing her child, but seeing Daryl take on this burden, allowing himself to harden, to change from the man she knew deep down he was, it seemed too much for her to take.

"Daryl, we'll take Randal back and sort this out tomorrow." Rick grabbed hold of Randal's arm and as he and Shane passed by them, Shane expelled an irritated noise that made Carol jump. He patted her gently on the shoulder, showing he didn't hold her words against her, and then followed Rick out and left them alone.

The silence between them was fierce, and Carol could feel the weakness within her as her heart sped up its beat and blood thundered in her ears. Daryl's eyes when he finally looked at her seemed to pin her to the door, glittering brightly with anger and a burning purpose. He raised a hand and then slammed it flat palmed against the door behind her, Carol unable to hold back the squeak of fear.

"You wanna know what the prize is? You wanna know why I'd do this and not even give it a second thought?"

He was so close, his body a coiled pillar of angry purpose and it was all Carol could do to stop herself reaching out and touching him. She knew she'd crossed a line, and if she was truthful, she didn't even know why she was doing it, only that she was so afraid for him and the man he might become if he went down this track. She could already see how the deaths Rick had racked up weighed on him, and the changes Shane had gone through since his return without Otis. She didn't want that for Daryl. He had enough of his own pain and demons to contend with without creating more.

"Tell me," she whispered, giving in and reaching behind her to take the hand resting on the door to the side of her face.

His eyes closed and he dropped his head and Carol studied how deeply he sucked in a breath to steady himself, how he didn't rip his hand from hers and how he instead let her touch soothe the temper in him that had threatened to swell out of control.

"The prize is keepin' you safe. Keepin' all the women safe, but especially you. You weren't there—didn't hear how much he _liked _what his group did to those girls. How much he _got off _on it. He ain't gonna stop; he ain't gonna change. We let him stay here with us, the minute our back is turned it could be Beth. Hell, it could be Andrea. He might kill Dale to get to any one of you. Fuck, if Sophia were here—" He stopped, suddenly fearful he'd pushed it too far but then decided she needed to know. She needed to face this world they now occupied. "That sick fuck would enjoy tearing a girl like Sophia apart. I can't let him live. None of us can."

Her tears flowed faster now, and Daryl squeezed his eyes closed so he didn't have to see her pain. He felt her as she dropped her face to his chest, sobs settling hard on her frame as her arms wrapped around him. His whole body felt aflame, the electricity of the moment becoming swept up with the emotion of it all and it left him struggling for breath. And then she spoke, and he knew she finally understood.

"Ed was starting to look at her…like he wanted her. I think I was starting to notice before all this started, before we got to the quarry, but when Shane beat him up and he tried to keep her with him away from me, the way he looked at her, I knew, and I wanted him dead so badly I'd have almost done it myself." She pushed gently against his chest and he felt the muscles in his arms strain to keep her close, to not let her pull away completely. "If you do this, you can't ever go back. The next one will be easier and then where does it end? I'm so afraid this will change you."

"Ain't no way to stop that. The world has changed and if we want to survive, we gotta change with it."

Her lips pressed softly against his—not in a kiss of desire but one of fear. He'd barely registered it had happened before she pulled away and buried her face once more against his chest. It thrilled him that a few short weeks ago he'd have shoved her from him, cut out his own heart rather than let anyone crawl their way into it, but here he was and he needed her in his arms more than he'd ever needed anything in his whole life.

"No matter how bad this guy is, or how evil his group is, the thought of you murdering him makes me feel sick. But I understand, Daryl. I understand."

"We can't let him go." His statement was final; fact. Carol did understand it, and she respected it as much as she could, but she couldn't banish her own guilt that perhaps sprung from being a survivor in this new harsh world. She was trying to toughen up, but the process was slow, and it was so damned hard.

"Okay." She nodded against his chest, squeezing her eyes closed and breathing in deeply to try and control the waves of pain that kept threatening to overwhelm her. She trusted him, and she…cared about him more than any man she'd ever known. Cared enough to not trick herself into thinking it was love, even if everything that she felt around him would have made her once think so. "Okay." And she stepped away, letting him go and feeling lost as soon as she did so.

* * *

It had been a long time since Dale had felt truly angry. Most of his life since his wife had passed was spent in remorse, was spent in sadness, reflection and lately, spent in worry about these people he'd thrown his lot in with. He cared for them all, even Shane, he thought, though that one was more of a struggle than the rest, but this decision to kill—to eradicate a human life because they were presumed a potential threat—well that made his blood boil.

He'd left the discussion feeling more disappointed in the levels of human spirit than he'd felt in his entire life—and that had spanned longer than most. It shocked him that they all saw the only way to save themselves was to put to death anyone that might threaten their very existence. He wished he could say he understood their thinking, wished he could accept their sheer-minded determination to protect their lives at any cost, but he couldn't.

It was wrong, and while he didn't have any alternative he could confidently offer, he at least knew that.

In the last minute, Andrea had surprised him, and his belief in her was reaffirmed. He'd thought he'd lost her for good with how she'd taken against him these last few weeks, blaming him for caring so much about her that he couldn't bear to finish out what was left of his life without her. She'd changed her mind and decided he was right, wanting to give Randall the benefit of the doubt and finding some other way to deal with whatever horrible consequence they expected from letting him live.

Conversely, he was disappointed in Glenn. Randall wasn't much younger than Glenn, so Dale had thought his young friend would have seen his point of view much more clearly than the rest, but apparently it wasn't meant to be. Apparently he was to be swept up in the eye of the storm along with all the rest.

Dale shook his head, shouldered his rifle and took off to do a walk around the field's perimeter. Doing laps of the field was one of his favourite activities since they'd been on the farm. He spent so much of his time on the roof of the RV that this chance to stretch his legs and commune with nature was a welcome one. As well as giving him the opportunity to escape them all. It was too hard to look into their faces and see the implacable expressions about the Randall threat. It hurt him to think that he'd been spending his time with these people who so clearly differed in the way they viewed this new world, throwing opportunity to the wind while they turned into savages. He wondered how long it would take for them to turn on each other, to decide that one of them needed to be put down for wandering off the common course. And he wondered if this was it—if these people who differed so far from him fundamentally would be the only ones he ever got to continue living with.

The anger swirled around in his head, his body coiled tight for some kind of release, but before he was able to decide how best to defuse himself as a living, breathing time bomb, he heard one of Hershel's cows braying pathetically on the calm night air. As he walked closer to the animal he realised it was down, closer still he found its guts had been mutilated, the poor animal in agonising pain and half torn to pieces. As realisation finally kicked in, Dale turned and forgot his anger as he came face to face with a walker far too close for him to use his rifle.

His shout held more fear than he'd felt since his wife had hovered in that place between life and death. He cursed his age, his feeble body that wasn't strong enough to hold the walker back—push him back so he could get the distance required to whip around his rifle and shoot the thing in the head. No, he was an older man, now, and once he'd have gloried in the experience and wisdom that age had given him. Now he could do little as his arms weakened and the thing clawed its way closer, could do nothing but scream in agony as its fingers ripped into his belly and his insides fell out before the crushing weight of it was gone, the pressure alleviated with a jolt and he had the impression of the most unlikely of heroes crashing the walker to the ground.

Dale lay back on the grass and tried to breathe. He could hear everything so clearly—Daryl's knife as it thrust into the walker's head with a sickly thud, the rough man's frantic and broken cries to him to hold on, the trampling of feet as the group ran to his aid—always running to protect one of their own even while they turned their back on those that weren't.

He blocked out Rick's emotional call for Hershel, knowing himself it was too late. He felt cold, his insides pinching and squeezing and pumping much faster than he was used to. Burning ferociously as the pain splintered and fractured throughout his body on the way to his brain. He wanted to talk, to tell them he forgave them, to tell them to live and fight and do whatever they needed to survive, because while he was angry, he loved these people. He just wished it hadn't taken something like this for him to realise it.

His body took over when the pain became unbearable and Dale recognised that his end had arrived. It wasn't how he'd always expected it to come—when his wife had died he'd considered taking a leap out of life so he could join her, whether it was his time or not—but who would have ever expected to lose their life during days such as these? He needed it to end, felt the blood gurgling up from his stomach to his throat and the agony rode through him in waves. They all stood above him, the women sobbing in fear, sobbing in misery and loss and while he wanted to wrap them all in his arms and apologise for every out of turn word, thank them for the weeks they'd spent with him giving him the purpose he had always needed, he craned his head up begging for something, anything that would end this. Daryl stepped up and Dale could see the conflict on his face, the deep regret that this action had to be taken, and yet he was grateful, wanting nothing more to tell the man how very much he admired him for the changes in himself he'd allowed. He wanted to wish him well and give him the fatherly advice he was sure he'd never received before—to take what Carol offered him and run with it, to love her and hold her and never let her go. But instead, he hoped his eyes conveyed his gratitude as Daryl put the gun against his head, whispered out, "Sorry, brother," and pulled the trigger.

**A/N... My very, very great apologies to those who'd hoped I'd save Dale. I truly wish I could have because I think his guidance is what Rick needed throughout, but especially by the end of season 3, and seriously, Hershel needed another older man to converse with!**


	25. Chapter 25

A/N… Okay, so I don't usually post another chapter until I've written another, but we're getting so close to the reunion and I know everyone is hanging out for that (though you must all be doing it in silence or otherwise the majority wasn't so hot on the last chapter!). There's a little bit of most everyone in this chapter. So…what do you think?

Part Twenty-Five

The crack of a gunshot splitting the air shocked Merle from his doze on the back steps. It had sounded close, much closer than the last time he'd heard the disruption of gunfire, and he cursed the fact that it was late at night, making it impossible for him to see for shit if he went out exploring now. Sophia was asleep inside, the front door barricaded the best that he could while he sat out the back, staring at that rose bush and thinking about his brother. Thinking about how Daryl would react to having his big brother back from the dead.

Merle couldn't say he was a confident man. To tell the truth, for the most part he just didn't give a fuck. He didn't give two shits if the people in the town they grew up in hated his ass, and he kind of loved it that they might have been more than a bit _afraid_ of him. He'd been dragged through life knowing only family would give a shit about him, and that family were the ones that hurt as well. Except for Daryl. They'd been a team until Merle had to turn his back and get out of the place before he went to Hell and took Daryl down with him. They'd survived together until Merle was gone, and then he'd left Daryl to survive on his own while he'd tried to carve out some other kind of life for himself. He had thought that one day he'd find a place where he fit in—the army hadn't been it. Fuck no, that little outfit had fucked his life up all to shit. Surrounded by power hungry assholes who revelled in rubbing their underlings' noses in shit. Who wanted to see how far they could shove before these boys trying to be men would break. Merle broke, all right. Broke one of the fucker's noses before he was dishonourably discharged and forced to go out looking for another place for him to fit. He'd stumbled from one to the other his whole fucking life, and not once had he felt more calm—more _right_—than this time where he searched for his brother with a little girl at his side.

If he'd have known a kid would be his saving grace he might have made the effort to knock some bitch up years ago.

Thinking about Sophia teased his memory of them back at the quarry, the woman she'd called momma as she clung to her side. Carol. Woman wasn't half bad—a bit drab, washed up looking with terrifyingly short, mannish hair, but she'd had a body on her, and if his memory was even half as good as usual, not a wrinkle on her. He was trained enough to see what did and didn't fill out a pair of pants and that woman had been hiding an ass as ripe as a juicy peach—and Merle was right partial to peaches. He didn't mind that her hair was grey, hell, so was his if you looked close enough, and if she grew it out a little, gave him something to run his fingers through, he figured he wouldn't mind giving that a go. Hell yeah, he could bang that like a screen door in a hurricane, give Sophia a real family with a daddy that wasn't going to dole out bruises like it was candy and give her momma a real man just as a bonus. Hell, if they ever found someplace where the biters could give them a minute to collect themselves, maybe they could create their own brat and give him two reasons to get his shit together. Or three, if he included Carol.

That's if he could ever fucking find them.

This place had an eerie feel to it, thought Merle. The Cherokee Rose bush was the first thing to really convince him that they were finally on the right track, that locating his brother and Sophia's mother might finally be around the corner. That single gunshot was the second. It could be explained by a walker or by someone in the group being put out of their misery, and Merle refused to dwell on the possibility that person might be Daryl—or Carol. By extension she was now part of his family, whether the woman liked it or not. Merle was going to make sure she liked it.

With a cocky grin, he launched himself off the back steps and wandered around the grounds, not straying too far from sight of the back door in case anything tried to sneak in that might be a danger to Sophia, but enough to keep an eye around the place to make sure they stayed safe. The place was too big to stay there long—too difficult to defend if more than one intruder happened upon them at once. Excitement raced through his veins, excitement that was pure and natural and all about him and his _feelings. _He was so sure they were almost there, just around the corner waiting for Merle and Sophia to reunite with them. He was almost euphoric at the expression he knew would be on Sophia's momma's face when she saw her girl, not only alive, but now finally looking healthy like all little girls should. Yeah, he felt one hell of a fucking high and it had nothing to do with any of his usual substances.

Merle could get used to it, this feeling of success, of heroism in the face of certain failure. It might have taken him fifty odd years, but he figured he'd finally made it. Finally found a place. Fuck yeah, he could do this shit with his eyes closed.

* * *

Carol had been unable to close her eyes all night. She hadn't wanted to sleep alone, hadn't wanted to sleep in Dale's RV, and she hadn't wanted to drive herself crazy wondering if Daryl was okay after doing what he'd done. After he'd put a bullet in Dale's brain to save the man from suffering. It didn't escape her the irony of his choice just minutes after telling her why Randall had to die—after she'd cried out her concerns for his character into his shirt. This life they lived now was so awfully cruel, slapping their faces with all that they'd lost every chance it got. She knew Dale was the last man to deserve to die the way he would have if Daryl hadn't ended it for him—and as much as it broke her heart apart, she was so proud of him. When she finally worked that part out, she went to him in his tent, curling up into his side as his arm slowly, hesitantly settled around her shaking shoulders, and she cried for another loss the group had suffered. She cried for Sophia and Amy and Jim, and then she cried buckets over whoever was going to be next and prayed doubly hard that it wouldn't be Daryl, because whether her stupid brain told her not to love him, it's contradiction of her heart wasn't strong enough and she held him all the tighter while biting her own tongue.

The next day found her standing at their makeshift cemetery, the first of their own people to be laid out under the trees while comforting, loving, remorseful words were spoken and tears spilled into the earth. Carol stood alone, Daryl somewhere behind her possibly caught up in an emotion he was struggling to identify. She wished he'd stand with her, hold her hand, lean on her so she could lean on him, but nothing ever seemed easy in the flow of this thing sprouting up between them.

Carol couldn't help but stare at the mound of dirt that slowly hid Dale's body from their eyes. Shane and Glenn shovelled it in, the rest of them waiting till the act was complete and Rick stepped forward to give a eulogy worthy of the man they grieved. They were reminded of their character, their choice of how to live, the importance to fight for themselves as well as the fabric of the world they wanted to exist in, and Carol couldn't help but wonder how quickly these assertions would unravel the next time something they were unprepared to deal with slammed into them without warning and caused their group once again to fracture.

According to Rick, they owed it to Dale to not forget their humanity. That they never forgot who they were _before _while they strived to carve out a place in this new world. Carol only hoped that while they did that, while they clung to the pieces of themselves against a world determined to break them down to their lowest level, they didn't all end up dead in the process. Lofty values were one thing, but if it was the price for their lives, she thought she might vote to change.

Her eyes fell again to the ground, to the other graves beside Dale that were filled with the walker remains of Hershel's wife and step-son, and Carol couldn't help but imagine that this would have been a beautiful place to leave her little girl to rest. A beautiful place for her to visit so she could talk to Sophia about all the things that made her hurt, made her cry, and the man that might be healing it all by just being there with her. Tears welled up in her eyes and Carol felt hopelessness achieve a lethargy within her that grief hadn't.

Hershel, Maggie, Beth and Patricia wandered away and as they walked, and before any of their own group felt the end of their vigil at the graveside, Rick spoke, calling them all to freeze and listen.

"We have to let Randall go," he said, and while Shane hissed in anger and stomped away, everyone else ducked their heads and accepted it. It was what Dale had wanted and in this last moment of respecting him, they would do it and hope it was the right decision.

As everyone started to leave, Carol remained, not sure what to do with herself now that it was over. She felt strange being hit with another death so soon after losing Sophia, sort of numb, as if her heart was hardening to the sadness of this world. She felt Daryl's hand barely touch the small of her back and her skin burned at the contact. Turning quick as a whip, Carol grabbed his head and pulled him closer. Breath heavy and eyes fixed on his full lips, she fell the final distance and her mouth crashed onto his. The fear that she was turning cold dissipated in the air as Daryl slowly gave in and returned the kiss, though his shock at such a sudden attack was evident in the way his lips barely moved against hers. And then he was pushing her away and stepping back, his eyes trained on the ground and a flush settling on his cheeks. Her heart was thudding painfully in her chest, fear of his rejection competing against the swirling devotion and love she could no longer deny she felt for him.

"We should head back," he said, staring now across the farm at their people milling around the camp and Rick heading toward the house. "Rick and I are goin' to get rid of Randall today. 'Bout time that sonofabitch was outta our hair."

She wanted so much to touch him, to have him hold her like he had the night before while she'd cried, and as he started walking away, not even looking back to see if she was coming, Carol suddenly felt terrified that he could only give her comfort—give her anything at all—if she was hurting. That wouldn't be real. That would make whatever relationship she thought they were forming little better than some crush she'd developed further in her head than an honest partnership between a man and a woman would be.

"Daryl?" she called, then quickly walked to his side. There were so many doubts bubbling up into her brain, so many things she feared to say in case it sent him running away from her, but she didn't have the courage to ask, to lay her heart bare to him.

"What?" His voice was harsh and he didn't turn to her, staring straight ahead as he took even, confident steps toward the house.

Carol didn't know what this was—grief or guilt for Dale, anger at her for not letting him shoot Randall, or just him not accepting that they meant anything to each other. Her heart staggered its beat for a few slow seconds and Carol tried hard to rein in her panic. She didn't know what to do, how to make this right, so she took a page out of his book and decided to ignore it all.

"I'll pack some provisions for Randall to help him survive a few days." She continued walking, then, decided it better to escape into the house and do what she'd just said than to hang around a man who didn't want to be around her. Who didn't want to talk to her and who definitely didn't want to be kissing her.

She ran up the stairs, passing Rick on the porch, and quickly hid inside.

* * *

Lori hadn't felt quite right from the moment she'd got up out of bed. Her stomach cramped and she felt nauseous, but this time not when a certain smell hit her. She stared at the few spots of blood on her panties and winced, trying hard not to let the tears welling in her eyes fall. With a few sheets of toilet paper, she swiped and the blood that transferred was a livid red. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she hiccupped and held it in. Taking several deep breaths to calm down, she looked through the bathroom cupboard and found one unopened bag of sanitary napkins and took out one to place in her panties. A precaution.

Suddenly she didn't know how she wanted this to go. Mere days ago she wanted this baby gone. She'd been unable to see any kind of life for the little one, seeing only pain, and death and walkers. That was no future for a baby, and yet the pain of having it taken away killed her. Ripped through her body making her want to scream and scream and scream until the world stopped running at them and hitting them so hard.

There was nothing she could do. She was barely five weeks pregnant, and with the way they'd lived these last weeks, running from walkers and eating out of tins, it would be a miracle if they made it, let alone a tiny dot in her womb being able to find the nourishment it needed to survive.

Lori stood and looked in the mirror above the sink, frowned at how pale she was and took a deep breath. If this was her losing the baby, then that would at least get rid of the friction between Rick and Shane, though she admitted they were handling it much better than she'd expected. Somehow they'd been able to retain their friendship, and Shane had been able to take the steps back he'd needed to realise his life wasn't all about Lori and Carl anymore. She'd seen how he's softened around Carol, how he was seeking out other members of the group now and how his attitude wasn't quite as antagonistic and overwhelming as before. She was glad. Even though she should hate herself for falling into an affair with him when she thought Rick was dead, she had to be grateful to him for bringing them this far. She had to move on and just accept that what happened was now done and there was nothing she or anyone else could do to change it. If she'd had any kind of hope Rick was out there somewhere, alive, then she'd never have let Shane touch her, but the truth was, they'd both thought Rick was dead. Didn't make a bit of difference now. The damage had been done. Even if the little thing was threatening to revolt.

Another cramp ripped through her abdomen and finally the tears she'd thought she'd managed to push away spilled from her eyes and slid down her cheeks.

* * *

Shane stood below the porch and handed the gun over to Rick.

"What's this?"

Shane's expression was grim and he dipped his head while he thought how best to approach this. "Carl took this from Daryl's bike. He went for a walk in the woods yesterday, found himself a walker…"

Rick zeroed in on Shane, the gun a heavy weight in his hand. "The walker that killed Dale?"

"That's the one," Shane confirmed, feeling sick at the thought of it. Feeling almost angry that Dale had been lost from such a stupid mistake. If only Carl had told someone…

Rick nodded, his jaw flexing as he reviewed the situation in his head and came up with a solution. "I need to talk to him."

Shane nodded approvingly. "Sooner the better, man. Why don't I go with Daryl to drop off Randall and you can go help Carl understand a few things?"

Rick was nodding, momentarily blinded with concern for his son. Last night Carol had caught Carl trying to get to the barn to watch them shoot a man in the head; yesterday Carl was sneaking off stealing guns and going into swamps to hunt down walkers; Carl was keeping the presence of walkers a secret to the group and one of them ended up dead because of it. This world was changing them all, but Rick suddenly feared that the education his son was receiving was one that was twisted so far to the right that he might not ever be able to come back from it.

"I'll talk to him," he said to Shane, spying Daryl returning from his impromptu toilet break round the corner of the house. "You go with Daryl and take Randall as far from here as you can get him."

Daryl heard the change in plans and lifted a brow in question to Shane. Then he saw his gun in Rick's hands and his lips twisted meanly. "Hey! That's my gun. The hell you doin' with it?"

Rick shook his head and handed it back to Daryl, ignoring the explanation part of the exchange to bound determinedly down the steps in search of his son.

As he left, Carol exited the house, the screen door slamming back into place as she carried a decent-sized bundle to the men. She looked hesitantly at Daryl, found him still ignoring her and so handed the wrapped provisions to Shane. "For Randall," she said quickly, then ran down the steps and headed toward camp.

"Well, that wasn't weird at all," Shane chuckled while looking at Daryl slumped against the wall of the house. "You two have a fight or something? Or is this about last night"

"What it's about is none of your damn business," Daryl countered, his voice hard and edgy.

Shane softened instantly, his joking attitude slipping right off him as he eyed the redneck with concern he didn't show too often.

"How you holdin' up after last night?"

Daryl stared him down, blue eyes glittering with irritation. "I'm fine."

"It was a good thing you did. Dale was going to die anyway, an' it would have been agonising." Shane slowly ascended the stairs and hesitantly slapped Daryl on the shoulder blade. "You ended his sufferin'."

Daryl nodded, crossing his arms across his chest and tucking his hands into his armpits, his vulnerability in that moment open and plain for anyone around to see it.

"Look, it's not easy killin' a man, even when you know it's the right thing to do."

Daryl looked at him sharply, getting the double meaning but deciding not to say anything in case any of Hershel's people were within earshot of the porch.

"Ain't no reason why you and Rick should do all the heavy liftin'. Dale woulda done it for me."

Shane chuckled, his good spirits returning in a flash. "Man, any of us woulda done it for you."

Daryl's lips quirked briefly in what Shane might have been able to fool himself was a grin and he chuckled again. They both stood looking over to camp and they saw Carol with her hand on the RV door, hesitating a good while before she pulled it open and went inside.

"So why're you pissed at Carol?"

Daryl snorted. "Who said I was pissed at her?"

"Not like I haven't pissed off enough women in my time to see the signs. She was right last night. Rick made the decision, Rick's the one should've ended it. It wasn't your job. She's just worried about you. Hell, you should be glad someone cares enough about your ass to do what she did."

"That was all sorted last night," Daryl said, cutting the ex-cop off. The quiet stretched between them, their gaze still on their people milling around camp. Then, without warning, Daryl hissed an impatient breath and revealed what was bothering him to probably the last man in camp he should have. "She wants more than I've ever given to anyone. Don' think I can do it."

"Do 'it' or the rest of it?"

"Shit, I knew you'd be a prick about it." He made down the stairs, spying T-Dog as he loaded up the truck with bottles of water and a blanket. "Hey, T, can you go get Randall. Time to get this fucker off the property for good."

Shane jumped from the porch and made his way to the other side of the truck. "Look, Carol don't seem the kind of woman who wants to go anythin' but slow. Just take your time and it'll all fall into place. Just—" Shane paused, taking off his cap and scratching his head before fitting it back on. "Just try and be happy. The woman's got a thing for you. Damned if I can see why, but you got a good thing in her. Don't blow it."

T-Dog's incredulous yelling as he ran back to the truck had everyone rushing out to see what was going on. He reached the truck the same time as Rick ran back up to them.

"Randall's gone."


	26. Chapter 26

**AN… **And so it begins. Not many notes ahead of time on this one. Blood, sweat and tears, my friends. I hope you are all prepared! Just…don't be too harsh. I'm still getting back into the swing of things. PM's to previous chapters reviews…coming shortly. Ahem. Caryl on, folks!

Part Twenty Six

There was something about losing one of their own within the relative safety of the farm's fences that should have clued them in that it could all end in a fiery flash. Certainly they were familiar by now with walkers on the farm—but most of that had been by Hershel's behest in some misguided belief that the world would one day, and soon, be cured. That one had wandered in from the swamps, fed from the livestock but still hungered to rip its claws into Dale, should have told them to wise up, and fast. That should have told them their stay was drawing to a close and to do something—prepare at least—before disaster befell them completely.

When their little bubble was ripped away from them, it burst with an explosive pop that devastated them with the riot and roar of death. It was the horrible reminder that they were on the run for their lives and at any time they could scatter like flies and end up within a hundred different disasters at once.

Randall going missing was the catalyst, and other than the panic to get him back or finally kill him so he would no longer be a problem, their moment to start dismantling their strangling grip on the farm had arrived. Not one of them saw it coming.

Glenn, Rick, Shane and Daryl went looking in the woods for the escaped prisoner, while the women and Carl waited in the house. Every minute that wasted away pushed Carol a little closer toward a sense of doom. She wasn't sure what it was—whether she was still on edge from earlier when Daryl pushed away from her after she'd bravely kissed him at Dale's graveside, or if she'd subconsciously noticed that Lori seemed pale and listless. Maybe it was the silence in the house while they waited for word on whether the men had found Randall, or whether it was fear that one of them might come across another walker while they wandered the woods in the dark and not make it back at all. Carol had no idea what it was that was making her so fearful, and when Daryl and Glenn came back, she dismissed it and breathed much more easily to see that he at least was still alive and that she wasn't losing anyone else she loved for the moment.

Daryl didn't look at her, instead filling the group in on what they'd found—Randall as a walker, and likely the walker that bit him—so at least that threat had been eliminated. Lori was of course concerned about Rick and Shane still being out there, but with Randall no longer a concern, Carol wondered why the woman felt the need to send Daryl out after her husband all the time. Why she doubted Rick's ability to protect himself and the ones he cared about whenever he wasn't at his wife's side.

"Lori, I'm sure he's fine," Carol said, trying to reassure her friend but desperate to keep Daryl from going out again to the darkness beyond the farm. "Shane's with him. Give them a minute and they'll be back." Carol stepped closer to the door, hoping to prevent Daryl from going back out, so missed Lori's glare at her and the welling of tears in the other woman's eyes. Instead, she caught Daryl looking at her, his gaze shy and his lips teasing a smile as he seemed to have swept the uneasiness of before away. Her shoulders shook with relief and Carol smiled back, wishing she had the courage to throw herself into his arms, but with everyone standing behind them she knew he'd bolt the second she even tried.

He pushed the screen door open, stepping out onto the porch, and Carol, like the faithful woman she was, followed him. The need to be near him almost suffocated her and Carol worried that he'd feel it and push her away, but that fear was suddenly eclipsed by the bigger one as she looked out and saw hundreds of moving pin dots spreading across the field. It took her a moment to really process what she was seeing, but the second the realisation slammed into her, she gasped and reached for his hand. An indescribably large herd of walkers that had already flooded the field beyond their camp were ambling closer, their moans spreading through the darkness like a million angry bees converging on a greedy thief.

"Daryl?" Her grip on his hand tightened, terror slamming into her hard.

Andrea and Glenn were right behind them, seeing the wave of walkers as they descended on the farm like a plague of starving, rotting locusts. Within a minute the rest of the group were rushing around, making plans on the fly and the women preparing to leave. Hershel showed up with his own stash of guns, Maggie taking up a rifle and passing one to Glenn. Lori banged through the screen, her face filled with terror as she announced that Carl was gone. Carol twirled in shock.

"Gone? But he can't be gone. Come on, we'll have another look." It couldn't happen again, another child being torn from their group and turning into one of _them _because they were too weak to get him back. Too _alive _to be any use to the living.

Daryl grabbed Carol's hand back, seemingly snatching it out of the air like it might be the last chance he got. He stared at her intently, and Carol saw his own revelation of fear, before he clamped it down and hid it within his depths, probably knowing they all needed him to keep a level head now that another child was missing and the odds in Carl's favour of surviving were far less than they ever had been for Sophia. He squeezed her hand desperately; she could see he wanted to say so much more but there was no time, and while she might wish it were true, had half convinced herself that he wanted to let her know that if they escaped this, he'd give her more or die trying, she had to let him go and hope they made it back to each other once this was all over.

"Get in one of the cars and get off the farm." It was an order and as tears sprung to her eyes, she nodded. Her other hand came up to stroke his cheek and she knew he was reading in her the fear that this might be the last time they saw each other, and that he hated that it hurt so much.

Her eyes scanned the landscape and saw the figures crawling closer, could hear the excited growls as the dead sensed their movement, smelled their life and grew desperate and greedy to feed from them. Time was now against them and Carol had to let him go, trusting that if anyone of them survived at all, it would be Daryl. If she died tonight, she could at least die happy that he'd survive.

"Go," she said, her voice breaking along with her heart. "Stay safe."

* * *

Daryl watched her run back into the house with a curse. He could hear Lori screaming for Carl through the house and he wanted to beat that kid's ass. He'd told her to get to a car and to get off the farm, knowing he'd be useless in this fight if he was worrying about where she was. She wasn't a fighter, not yet anyways despite his and Shane's efforts to train her, and even if she was, he didn't want her risking her life when it was obvious they needed to get the hell off the farm.

He couldn't say goodbye, terrified that it would be the last thing he said to her. Terrified now of many things—but not of the bastards that were spilling forward like a giant bottle of beer knocked on its side. No, it was the pain of never making something of what they'd started, a deep, bone deep pain that might be something he could never chase away. He'd made promises he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep just by staring at her and hoping she could read him when he'd never tried to be open to anyone else in his life, but he'd needed to convey to her in some way that he now knew the score, and that if they made it, she had his heart and he'd even hand it over to her with his bare hands if he had to.

He jumped the porch railing and headed to his bike. There were too many walkers, not enough of _them _to make much of a dent, even if they'd had the firepower to back them up. He couldn't help but think that every gunshot through the head took one of the pricks out, but another in the woods would prick its ears in their direction and start its journey to add to the mass. Despite what Hershel thought—what he wanted—there was no way left to keep this farm. Their only chance to live was to get off it, and now.

The barn exploded with a bang and a hiss, flames licking up the tinder walls like it had only been waiting for permission to become an impressive blaze. Walls of fire spiralled spectacularly, licking greedily at the sky as if something cold and dark might descend far enough to douse it down and make it new. Daryl rode toward the RV, dodging walkers as they stalled at a fence, his gun picking off a few before he decided it was a waste of time. He directed Jimmy toward the burning barn in case Rick and Shane were over there and needed help getting out of the inferno, cursing himself and calling out at the last minute for the boy to stop when he realised he was sending the kid to certain death if he wasn't in and out of there within a minute. He wasn't heard over the moaning crowd around him, or the blast of gunshots, or the roar and crackle of the barn exploding and falling to the earth as flames ravenously consumed every last particle of its existence. He rode off before he could see what the fate of the boy would be, shooting a path clear so that if Rick and Shane _had _been at the barn, they might make it back to the house and a vehicle.

The place was completely overrun within minutes, and Daryl had no choice but to retreat before he was dragged off the bike and became dinner. He pulled over on the side of the road and watched and waited for any sign of who else made it out, his heart in his throat, fists clenched, wondering where the hell she was.

* * *

Carol finished searching the upstairs and confirmed what Lori already knew. Carl was gone, and this time it might finally be the death of him. She watched her friend carefully, concerned with how pale Lori was, how her hands grasped her stomach and how her moans rivalled their enemies' outside. There was nothing she could do to alleviate her friend's pain, knowing they had to get off the farm if they had any chance of making it. They had to trust that Carl had found his father and that they'd all meet up again somewhere after all this was over.

Lori gripped some bags filled with whatever she'd been able to grab in a hurry, Carol doing the same as well as gripping the machete Glenn had handed her earlier before leaving with Maggie. They rushed out of the house, dragging Patricia and Beth toward the truck T-Dog was driving. Andrea jumped out of the truck to help them get in, and Carol knew no matter how much they crushed up into the cab, there was no way five women were going to fit in there with T-Dog. Walkers were converging on them, Carol noticing some coming from the side nearest Patricia, and she screamed as she buried her hatchet into its head and bought the woman a few more seconds to hurry Beth to the relative safety of the car. Lori was surrounded and Carol rushed in with Andrea at her side, slashing at heads for all she was worth and barely registering any contact she made with falling, crushing bodies as they toppled around her, black, sticky blood settling into the grass and splashing onto her clothes and face. She shoved Lori hard away from the threat, just wanting the woman away so she at least knew some of them were safe, screaming at Andrea to pick Lori up where she'd slammed into the side of the truck and fell in a heap screaming and crying on the ground. The blonde dragged her up and shoved her into the truck, throwing the bags into the bed of the truck as she hopped up and jumped in herself, calling to Carol to hurry up and get on. Before she could move, her arm still arcing around her and connecting with bodies, she slipped on the puddles of blood in the grass and fell. Her breath was knocked out of her as the doubly dead body of her latest kill collapsed on top of her. She could hear screaming—perhaps her own as putrid flesh seemed to drip around her—felt herself burning and gagging and then her own terrified cries as she heard the tell-tale sound of wheels skidding as the truck lurched forward and tore away from the farm.

Pushing at the body that covered her, Carol stumbled to her feet, snatching her bag back over her shoulders and looked around, refusing to allow her sight to blur with tears. They'd gone, all of them and left her alone amongst the dead, still wandering and closing in on her. Taking a deep breath, filling her lungs with the fetid, stale air of the decayed monsters that were stealing every part of her life away from her, Carol searched around her for a way out. All she could see was the road off the farm and the bloodied weapon in her hand, her ears throbbing with the blood that rushed through every vessel in her body, her innate instinct screaming at her to run.

As she made a connection with the cloudy eyes of another walker and it changed its path to rush at her, Carol buried her hatchet once again in another head, sobbing with the effort to keep herself alive, and she ran.

* * *

T-Dog saw Rick and Shane running toward the house and could see they weren't going to make it. Between them they took turns dragging Carl along with them, aiming their guns at any walker that got too close and making the bullets count. Unfortunately, thought T-dog in panic, there were too many that were getting close enough to take them. Making a decision he knew he was going to regret later, he grabbed up his hatchet and slammed on the brakes. He yelled at Andrea to get in the truck and drive, watching just long enough to see her get out of the back and make it in, feeling satisfied at hearing the thud of the door as she slammed it shut and the rev of the motor as she tore out of there. Then he was off, shooting for all he was worth to cover the other men and taking his hatchet violently to the skulls of walkers too close to bother wasting a bullet on. Gratitude was all over their faces as they ran up to him, heading toward Hershel—the older man firing round after round and taking out as many walkers as he could—as T-Dog continued to slash and bash at their enemy, finding himself quickly in the middle of a blood bath.

He could hear a gun go off as he went down, one big mother fucker landing on him as he slammed a bullet into its brain, and by the time he managed to push himself out of the mess, the red Cherokee was peeling out of the place and he was alone.

Son of a bitch.

He was never one to panic, except for maybe that time in Atlanta when Merle had let loose on the roof and did his best to complete the herd coming down on them that Rick had already started. With a hopeless laugh he considered staying where he was, letting the bastards finally tear him to shreds and let his suffering end, but then sanity kicked in, his survival instinct went into overdrive and he ran as fast as his legs could carry him, ducking and diving as well as he could knowing he had limited bullets left and a million walkers to avoid. He took off into the woods, hoping he could come up with a plan or at least run far and fast enough that he'd manage to lose the majority of them. What ones that crossed his path, he relieved of their heads, only really getting nervous when each slash became a bit more heavy, had a little more drag and wasn't so neat when detaching heads from necks. The blade would be dulled completely, and then he'd be screwed, but it would have to be something he worried about later. Worry about when he had time to work out how to find something to sharpen it.

If it stopped cutting, he'd just have to start using it to club the shit out of these things that just never stopped. Four more came at him from up ahead, and he slammed through them and almost lost his balance. He managed to knock them enough apart that he could take out the first two without worry about being bitten, but the second two approached together again and he knew it was time for dirty fighting. He dived down and threw himself at their legs, knocking them out from under them and then smashing one head with his boot once he'd scrambled back to his feet, while burying his hatchet into the other. Then he was off again, his heart bursting with the activity, his breaths heaving throughout his body, blood screaming at the exertion, his ears still ringing with the screams of Lori and Carol and God, he just had to block it out. Run, run, run like he'd never run before—even as exhaustion set in, the sky began to lighten, and his limbs refused to listen to his brain telling them he still had enough energy in the tank to make it.

He collapsed, his vision blurring as his hands slammed into sticks and rocks on the forest floor. He fell forward onto a blanket of leaves that made him slide full length on his belly. He rolled over, seeing one more walker come at him but he'd lost his hatchet amongst the leaves. He retrieved his gun and it clicked annoyingly, no more explosions from the barrel and T-Dog started to say a prayer, but couldn't remember the words. He'd been saying prayers his whole life but when it truly mattered, the words had disappeared and he had nothing left to say. He stared at it as it came closer, its body reeking and face distorted with decay, and, as he was ready to close his eyes and say goodbye to all he knew, the walker's severed head landed in his lap then rolled off as his hips jerked away from it, and the rest of it collapsed at his feet, covering him in its blood.

Slowly, T-Dog looked up, almost terrified to see what kind of Angel God had sent him. Rewarded him with when he'd not even been able to shoot him a few words of thanks for letting him live for so long in a world that had been mad a long time before it went insane. What he saw of her amazed him—filled him with gratitude, filled him with fire, and scared the ever-living fuck out of him.

* * *

Daryl had been sitting on his bike, watching the flames of the barn start to wither away its intensity when he realised that no cars had driven past him in a panic to get off the farm. By no means was the road where he waited the only one off the place, but it was the main one and the closest one to the house and vehicles. He wasn't going to believe he was the only survivor, knowing that Shane and Rick at least had strong instincts to guide the others away—if they hadn't been caught within the herd and been taken down early in the fight—but that didn't mean that his gut didn't feel uncomfortable and that fear for Carol wasn't making his insides twist and grind within him painfully. He wanted to roll, get out of there as fast as he could before walkers noticed him sitting there like he had nothing better to do, but he couldn't tear himself away. He was waiting for something he wasn't sure of until the last minute stretched toward the final second and his hope died on the farm with the woman he'd started to realise he wanted, more than anything he'd ever wanted his whole life.

His heart constricted painfully in his chest and his breath seemed tight and uncooperative, a lump threatening in his throat to cut off all ties to the air in the outside world, and then he heard it. A scream that he'd known in a second belonged to Carol. She was still there, on the farm, no back up and running recklessly as fast as she could to where he'd sat without a walker near him. She was exhausted, he could tell, her feet stumbling hard on the uneven ground, her pace slowing with every stride, and walkers far too close to her for Daryl's comfort. He rode his bike up to her as fast as he dared, resisting the urge to run to her and drag her along faster. As she drew closer, he could see she was covered in blood, her bag slung over her shoulder and a walker about to reach her from behind. In a fluid motion he plucked his crossbow off the back of his bike, loaded it and aimed, striking her closest pursuer directly in its eye socket. He replaced it on the holder of the bike and then she was there, jumping on behind him as more than twenty walkers descended on them, growling with desperate hunger. Daryl revved the bike and they skidded off in a cloud of dust, leaving the dead to pursue at their own pace but confident they'd never catch up.

He felt every single tremor that rocked her body, pressed so close to him as she was. Every sob bounced off his back like Shane's useless bullet ricocheting off the CDC windows, her arms clasped tight enough around his waist to cleave him near in half, and while he sat through the pain that seeped into his heart at almost having lost her for good, as he felt deep in his bones that he'd just barely survived the worst night of his life, he recognised that it wouldn't be the first time they went through this shit. This horror, these near escapes and maybe one day the inevitable failure when one of them wasn't quick enough, wasn't alert enough and left the other behind, the fear of it all built up to a fever pitch that made him ache and clench his muscles and grip the handles of his bike to an excruciating, biting pain. It just barely blocked out the voice in his head that taunted him that he may have made it this time—he may have saved her for now—but what the hell would he do the next time those dead bastards came raining down on them? And was he so sure she was safe even now? She was covered in blood, was any of it hers? Was she bitten and did she even know it if she was?

Dread filtered through the fog and hit him square in the eyes. He swerved his bike around straggler walkers, his head over-thinking and building up the horror until his body was vibrating and anxiety nearly felled him from his ride. He had to know—had to see for himself that she was okay, that she'd made it off that farm without any bite marks or scratches and she was going to be just fine.

Daryl rode on until the night started to lose its deepest inkiness, patches of fog lifting and clearing enough for him to finally see a lack of walkers. Enough for him to feel that little buzz beneath the skin that told him they were, for now at least, safe. He pulled over to the side of the road next to an abandoned silver car, the trees far enough away on either side to give them warning should anything stumble out wanting to take a bite out of them. A quick glance as the bike rolled past showed the car to be empty, though there was a suitcase tied to the roof rack and the backseat piled high with whatever items the owner had deemed essential for escaping the end of the world. He was hoping that there was at least a blanket in there or it was going to be a cold and lonely night.

The bike had barely pulled up and the engine turned off when Carol almost collapsed off the back, tears still flowing heavily and her sobs raw and weary.

"Oh God," she cried. "T-Dog…they left without him and he had to run into the woods." Her voice broke apart as she relived the nightmare of her friend running into almost certain death before even considering that she'd been left behind as well.

"What the hell about you? Why the fuck weren't you in one of the cars? I told you to go." He couldn't control the fury that tore through him, dragging her up off the road where she'd collapsed and started tearing at her clothes, pulling and ripping to check violently for bites he was desperate not to see. She was so covered in blood he couldn't process anything, his hands rubbing across her throat, pulling her shirt almost completely off so that it dangled from her wrists while his hands confirmed what his eyes were seeing. Her perfect skin was clear, her eyes staring at him in shock, but he still wasn't finished, frantically checking her back as he roughly spun her around and then hands sweeping across her legs and ass. When it finally filtered through to his brain that she was fine, that she was shaking from being almost naked in the cold of a newly dawning morning and at the mercy of his roughness, it was too late to slow his pulse. Too late to control the animalistic urge to take what was his before he lost the opportunity to ever make the claim.

His mouth crashed down hard on hers, his hands urgently wrenching at the zipper of her pants until it slid down and he could push the rest of her clothes from her body while preparing himself and before he could register her cry of surprise, he'd slid into her core and slammed her back onto the hood of the car. He dived for her throat—mercifully clear of walker gore—nibbling greedily as he thrust irregularly into her, no discernible rhythm except to his own frantic, ragged breaths. His hands wrestled away her bra and he squeezed her breasts, his need too far from the side of gentle but not quite to the point of inflicting bruises. He grunted when he felt her legs surrounding him, her knees squeezing into his flanks and he pumped harder, her liquid heat scorching him and goading him into spurting inside her a long time before he was ready and he almost wept that it was over before he'd really begun. Over before he could turn it from his possessive stamp in attack to the more sensual act of love he'd known she'd expected. It didn't seem to matter as she grabbed at his head, lifting him so she could claim his lips in a tender surrender of her heart. He tasted salt and knew her tears hadn't stopped. He felt like an asshole, taking her on the side of the road on an abandoned car where they could be surrounded in seconds by walkers coming out of the woods. He knew he was one when he lifted himself from her, his fully clothed body against her naked one and his limp dick falling out of her, his spendings running out to coat the inside of her thighs as he thrust himself back into his pants as if it didn't matter that he'd practically taken her by force.

"Fuck." Daryl stumbled backwards, his head lowered so that he could see nothing but the road beneath his boots, his hands shaking wildly as he ran his fingers through his hair, grabbing fistfuls to yank hard as if that might be enough to instil some sense back into him. He wanted to scream at his own weakness and stupidity, shout at Carol for not being in the fucking car and safe like he'd told her to be so that if they got to this point—_when_ they ever got to this point—he might have been able to do it right instead of creating a scene to beat all previous fuck ups in his life. He paced away from her, his body exhausted and defeated, then he strode back, determined to apologise or turn the clock back or something to stop the guilt from eating away at him. She was dressed, helping herself into the car to delve into the backseat, pulling out a purple blanket and various other things she was able to slip into her bag before taking charge and inspecting the suitcase on the roof.

He could hear her euphoric laugh when she found clean clothes, then watched powerless as she tore her own filthy clothes once again from her body and claimed some replacements from the beaten suitcase and a jacket that was too light for the change in weather. Wordlessly he decided to help, going through some poor fuck's belongings and finding other items that would come in handy, toiletries and surprisingly some pants in his size, and the small hand gun and box of bullets tucked into the little pocket was a find that almost made him cheer.

Except looking sideways at Carol and her determination to ignore what had happened in the last ten minutes robbed him of the ability to make sound. When she was finished redressing and throwing her bloodied clothing inside the car, she lugged her bag back to his bike and she stood there, staring ahead aimlessly—anything other than looking back at him.

"We should try the Interstate. I think that's where everyone might have gone to meet up again."

If that's how she wanted it to be, then that was fine with him. Wasn't like he knew how to discuss what had just happened, what the words were to make it right between them again.

He was an expert on being broken—he just didn't have a clue how to mend.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N… The aftermath of running from the farm is bound to be filled with bitterness, fear, and loss. I just want to say about the previous chapter, I don't view what happened between Daryl and Carol to be a rape. It was rough sex, fuelled by fear, and Carol knows that. She may have needed time to process that, but our girl knows the difference between force and fear. So, in view of concerns about how they can come back from this, I am hoping you all don't think I've glossed over it. It does have consequences, but not ones that a huge battle will be needed to overcome.

This chapter…I deeply wish to thank Loublue for looking things over for me and giving me renewed confidence in where I am going with this story. I never thought that it would be such a long fic and it's been such a long time since I've strung something like this together (I don't write off a plan though I wish so much sometimes I was more organised!), so having people behind the scenes who can help me keep it all straight are a true gift. This goes for my mini cheering squad—raizingkain—without whom I'd never have embarked on this journey in the first place. Lastly, Susan, for continuing on with reading even though she'd never seen an episode of the show and had no clue where I was going most of the time.

**Guest: **Thank you so very much!

**Guest2: **Thank you. I agree, I think in this moment, when both of them are on high alert and adrenaline, it was almost something that couldn't have been prevented. I hope what is coming up is worth the wait, though really it's hard to know for sure until people are reading it. It's why I am ever nervous about each chapter. Merle is in for a bit of a surprise, LOL.

Now, onward we go. Feeling very, very nervous. Merle and Sophia reunite with the group in the next chapter. That one will come as soon as I can manage to write another chapter…so…y'all know what to do!

Part Twenty Seven

Merle saw them before he heard them, and heard them before the sound of gunshots ripped through the night. They appeared to descend out of nowhere, bursting through the thick crowd of trees to flood the yard and head with bloody-minded determination toward a direction to the left of where he was sitting. Trying not to make any sudden movements, mindful of making a noise that could turn their rigid, ravenous attention toward him, Merle went to gather Sophia and their supplies. Together they tore down the reinforcements that had been securing the front door, Merle hauling Sophia into his arms and bolted to the car as fast as his legs could carry him. The biters had already surrounded the house and with a desperation foreign to him, he slashed at them left and right with his bladed stump, jumping over their snapping jaws as heads landed around his feet. He practically tossed Sophia into the car, ignoring her terrified whimpers as he threw the car into gear and floored it, wrenching the wheel to the right as the car bumped over the grass and hit the road with a jump.

They were everywhere, a sea of the dead pushing down on them, lapping hungrily at the shore. He could see them turn from the house he'd just left to follow the rumble of his car, waves of them chasing them down. They were tenacious fuckers, he'd give them that, and in the past he'd found it to be a funny thing about them. Not that he'd ever seen this many together at one time before. Not since he'd left Atlanta, anyways. Now he wasn't seeing it as even remotely amusing, imagining in his mind that no matter how far they went, how fast they might outrun them, the fucking tortoise was always going to catch up and beat the hare and it pissed him off like little else had in the last few months.

How in hell was he going to find Daryl now? A herd this size—at least numbering in the hundreds—was going to completely decimate the area he'd based himself in, meaning the Atlanta group was going to have to move on or die. He voted that they move on, but that didn't make him fear that he'd never be able to find them wherever they ran to.

He'd gained enough ground on them to pull over ten minutes into their narrow escape, turning off the headlights so as to not attract further attention they didn't need, and he tried desperately to think of a plan. The sheer volume of the gathering must have had time to swarm together, being drawn together by a common goal—all heading toward a sound, most likely. That meant they were migrating, and if they'd reached this little pocket of the world, then they'd consume all it had to give and then move on to whatever noise struck them next. Hundreds of biters travelling together—yeah it really was resembling one of God's oft promised plagues for the end of days and Merle shook his head with a dry, humourless chuckle. How the hell could they outrun that forever? It all had to stop somewhere. For the first time, as he took a sideways glance at the kid that was depending on him to keep his shit together and the both of them alive, he was scared that they weren't going to make it. Not for long, anyways.

Sophia stayed silent on her side of the car—not that she was ever an incessant chatterbox. Right now, when he needed to keep his wits about him and make some pretty hard and fast decisions, Merle was grateful for the quiet. While he thought up ideas and tossed them aside lightning fast in his head, a vehicle came speeding up and overtook them while they idled on the side of the road. He couldn't be sure but it looked like the old Cherokee Sophia's dick of a father had driven into the quarry camp, and Merle decided it was as good a time as any to be impulsive and he accelerated after it. He kept a safe enough distance in order to stay hidden until it at least got too light for them to remain invisible. By the time that happened, Merle realised they were headed for the highway and he was happy enough to follow on.

He pulled up a ways from the others, far enough to see they'd stopped, observing but not quite ready to join forces until he saw whether his brother had made it, or at the very least, Sophia's mother. He saw the old man he recognised from that night he'd gone into the bar alone, Officer Friendly and the kid around Sophia's age that had knocked around with the other cop and the pretty brunette at camp. An odd bunch, Merle thought, but he kept it to himself for now.

"That's Carl and his dad. They found him in Atlanta when they left you behind," Sophia whispered, still too afraid of the night they'd just had to raise her voice enough to be heard outside the car. She was excited, Merle could tell, her small hand seeking his and curling up within his firm grip.

"Well I'll be damned," Merle chuckled. "Familes bein' reunited all over the damn place. You an' me are next, kid. Ain't no way those biters got Daryl if Carl and that old man got out."

She looked hopeful at him, and then her bottom lip wavered and he could have kicked himself for not reassuring her about her momma, but without someone looking out for that mousy, nobody of a woman, he wasn't so certain she'd have been able to escape a herd that big on will alone, especially when she likely thought her daughter was dead. Didn't give a woman like her a whole lot to fight for.

"Not gonna lie to you, girl. That was a hell lot of biters. It'll be a miracle if more made it out—even my dumbass brother."

They sat in silence, holding hands and tears quietly making sad little tracks down Sophia's cheeks as they waited, nerves and fear biting at them the whole time. Close to an hour passed before Merle heard the rumbling hum of his motorcycle and he twisted sharply in his seat to see not only Daryl with Sophia's mother clinging to his back, but two other vehicles following behind. He hooted with relieved laughter, grabbing up Sophia and squeezing her in a hug. She giggled happily into his neck and the tears suddenly dried up like they'd never existed.

Merle didn't think he'd ever felt so relieved in his life to locate Daryl, realising finally how important it was to see a friendly face. He just hoped it would stay that way once they drove up and that the miracle he could deliver them would cut him some slack.

* * *

She noticed the silence first. Beth was sobbing in Patricia's arms, sitting on her lap to make room for all four of them on the bench seat. Lori was deathly quiet, devastation twisting her face as the woman struggled, shaking to hold back her sobs. Andrea took one look at the blood soaking through Lori's jeans and slammed her foot on the brakes. The old blue truck shuddered to a stop, the violence fitting to the sobs that finally broke free of the woman jammed up against the door.

"Oh no, Lori. I'm so sorry."

The brunette shook her head, thick tears flowing as she choked on her sobs. She stared out the windshield, refusing to look at Beth or Patricia, and Andrea wondered what she should do. She might not be on the best of terms with Lori most of the time, but she would never have wished her this—not when the fate of Carl was still so uncertain. No one had seen him when the herd had hit, and while everyone scrambled to leave the farm, there'd been no way they could have gone looking for him. Andrea suspected he was most likely dead now—unless he'd managed to find Rick or Shane and the men had been able to protect him. But if he was gone, and now the baby was little more than bloodied refuse from Lori's womb, then her heart broke for the other woman. And guilt at her accusations when standing in the kitchen, feeling judged when she accused Lori of having it all. She needed to get them to safety, needed to find somewhere for Lori to change—if they could find her some clothes on the road somewhere. She needed to find the others and the only place she could think they might have gathered was on the Interstate where they'd first encountered a herd. The thought of returning there made Andrea feel sick, but as she once again looked at the silent Lori, vainly struggling to hold in her grief, she knew she had to build a bridge over the memories and just get over it.

She reached over and clasped Lori's hand in hers, trying to be reassuring without being pushy.

"What's goin' on?" Beth asked, clueless in her own misery, but Patricia gave her a hug and then leaned into Lori and tried to do the same for her.

"Sometimes the Lord has some God-awful timin'," she shared, and Lori offered a water-logged smile before turning back to the window, her shoulders shaking in silence.

Mind made up, Andrea swung the truck wide, cursing its heavy steering as the vehicle went right off road before the turn was complete and they were heading back toward the highway where their nightmare had first begun with Sophia running from walkers and being bitten. She just hoped the others had had the same idea and were heading there now.

She needn't have worried, eventually coming up behind Shane's Hyundai as the car drove haphazardly along. She beeped her horn once and the car in front pulled over, Glenn jumping out from the passenger seat. He loped up to Andrea and much of his stress visibly fell from his shoulders.

"Maggie is going to be so relieved to see you guys," he said, looking at Beth and Andrea couldn't help but be relieved to see the smile blossom on the young girl's face.

"Patricia? Do you and Beth want to go with Glenn and Maggie?" Andrea pushed open her door, exhaustion making her limbs feel heavy and clumsy as she accidentally knocked Glenn out of the way. The two women shuffled across the seat and climbed out after Andrea, hurrying to the other car before another walker could surprise them by limping out of the woods, crumbling flesh and faltering teeth eager to rip them apart.

Andrea walked partway with them, stopping between the cars and resting a staying hand on Glenn's arm. "Lori's had a miscarriage. She needs to clean up and change. Can you give us a few? She brought some bags from the farm but I don't know if she has any clothes in there. Can you check your car for any water or cloths or something she can use?"

Glenn looked stricken, nodding his head before running back to the Hyundai to see what he could find. Andrea returned to the truck, jumping up to grab Lori's bags and brought them to the side of the vehicle. She opened the passenger door, looking in at the woman who she'd had a strained relationship with on and off and indicated the bags.

"Please tell me you have some jeans or something in these?"

Lori sniffled, shooting a watery gaze at Andrea and smiled sadly. "Yes. I managed to grab some of our clothes. Everything else—our photo albums…" A sob caught in her throat and Andrea stepped forward and folded her into a hug.

"We'll get you cleaned up and then head back to the Interstate. I'm sure everyone will be there waiting for us."

Lori nodded, a cry getting caught in her throat before her chest expanded suddenly and she shook with her grief. "What if they aren't? Carl went missing," she confided as tears flowed fast and furiously down her cheeks and her breathing escalating to the point that Andrea feared she was heading toward a panic attack. "He's probably dead."

"We don't know that," Andrea said, rubbing Lori's arm and trying to reassure her that nothing was certain until they saw it with their own eyes. "We need to go and try to find the others, then work out what we do from there. Until we know who didn't make it, I think we should try not to think about it. Just get this done, and find Rick and the others. It'll be okay. I'm sure it will."

"No promises, right?" Lori watched Andrea and the blonde knew that Lori understood she'd never offer them. This was no longer the kind of world where promises worked.

She nodded, and her voice came out husky with emotion. "No promises."

* * *

Carol felt her whole being thrum and buzz with life. Survival. Love. Daryl's motorcycle vibrated beneath her, keeping her nerve-centre alive with sensation, with memory and while she could get away with it, she buried herself against his back and held him firmly around his waist. This was all she had for now and Carol forced herself to accept that. Forced herself to take all she could from him because once they found the others, she knew with a surety that scared her that all the barriers she'd been knocking down the past few weeks were going to slam back into place and she'd be left on the wrong side of them with little hope and possibly no energy to tackle it all over again.

It wasn't fair. She wanted to cry for the loss of what they'd been working toward. She didn't hate him for what happened—she couldn't hate him ever. He'd been afraid for her and it was her own fault. He'd told her to get in a car and get off the farm and she'd veered from that course to save Patricia, to get Lori safely in the truck, and then she'd been surrounded with no way back. She'd had to run and had almost accepted that she was going to be caught and consumed and then wake up as one of them—as a thing like her daughter—and be the one her friends feared. It hadn't happened, and yet the fear of it still played tricks in her brain. Still had her adrenaline kicking in high gear so that her heart raced, her blood roared through her veins, and the bike didn't go as fast as her legs wanted her to go to get away from it all. She wanted to crawl inside of Daryl so that he could take the pain of that trauma away from her, have him do whatever he could to make her forget the stench of their rotten breath, their blackened blood, their brittle bones and stringy, loose hair, their milky, evil eyes. She wanted to forget what it was like to have one of their hands almost reach her arm, or being within a breath of having their teeth buried in her flesh. What she wanted seemed to always be the very last thing she got. While she squeezed her eyes tight and pushed her face even harder into Daryl's back, a feral energy started in her belly, pushing, shoving, slamming up through her body until it erupted from her with a force she was unable to anticipate, releasing choking, agonising moans and sobs that just wouldn't stop. Even when Daryl skidded to a stop, untwisted her fingers from the uncomfortably tight grip around his middle and spun around to hold her, she couldn't stop.

They'd almost died—all of them. Hell had reached the safe, beautiful comfort of the farm and the peaceful haven they'd found in nature was gone, just like Sophia and Dale and the others and Carol felt again that this was impossible for them to outrun. Impossible for them to find somewhere to hide. And the only happiness she'd found amongst it all—falling in love with Daryl—was about to come crashing down because of a crazy, impetuous moment. Unless…he was holding her now, whispering softly that they'd be fine, that they'd find the others and find somewhere safe and they'd sort it out sometime.

Carol didn't want to sort it out—she wanted the awkwardness and the worry about how he was feeling about what they did to disappear and not come between them. She didn't regret what happened. She could never regret a single second she spent with him, and so with a confidence and determination Carol was only just becoming accustomed to, she pushed the hysteria aside. She took deep, calming breaths and pulled herself away from his chest so she could stop hiding and just see.

Her hand shaking violently, Carol raised it and rested it against his cheek. Her thumb brushed against his bottom lip. A need so strong tore through her that she gave in to the pull of it, encouraging him closer so she could taste him and give some small measure of reassurance about before, that whatever it was, it wasn't anything either of them should feel guilty about, or ashamed of. She loved him and while she had never thought being with him would have been so hard and fast with her almost naked and vulnerable on the side of the road, it was done.

He didn't pull away from her, but Daryl sat unresponsive as her lips brushed softly against his. "Please don't push me away," she begged, feeling the sadness build again until his arm went around her and he hauled her against him, his mouth hot and hard against hers. Carol moaned, her eyes falling shut as she gave him everything she had been holding back and expressed it with her lips.

The sound of a car approaching broke through the haze Carol had fallen under and before she was ready, Daryl had pulled away. He smiled shyly, his lips just barely quirking in the corners, and then he jerked his head toward the Hyundai that became recognisable as it gained ground. Daryl left the bike completely and Carol jumped off to follow, feeling a tension in her chest start to lessen as the car slowed to a stop.

Glenn jumped out of the car as soon as he put it in park, his excitement barely contained as he rushed forward to slap Daryl on the back and attack Carol with an exuberant hug.

"Man, I am so happy to see you guys. Lori and Andrea should be close behind us." His smile slipped a little. "It looks like Lori lost the baby."

A deep sense of loss hit her sharply. Carol covered her mouth as new tears sprung to eyes still stinging from their last rampage. She hated this life they were living now. It was a place that raped the innocent, chewed them up and spat them out with so little to go on with. It was one thing for grown men and women to have to fight to survive, but to rob them of their children as well, it was too much. The hurt from losing Sophia was crippling, but she'd had hope that Lori's baby might help fill a hole inside the group, and now that hope was gone and for all they knew, Carl as well.

"Did you find Carl? Is he in the car?" She made to step around the men to go and check, but Glenn was shaking his head.

"I have Maggie, Beth and Patricia. I don't know about the others—T-Dog, Shane and Rick."

"T-Dog got left behind. I saw him running into the woods but he only had a hatchet and a handgun and at least thirty walkers followed him."

"Best we stop worryin' and just head to the highway and find out for certain who we've got," Daryl suggested and then they could hear the dull hum of his old truck as Andrea caught up to them.

Carol rushed to the truck, making her way to Lori, intent on hugging her friend, but as soon as she got there she could tell something was wrong, the brunette intent on ignoring her. Carol grasped the handle to open the door and almost fell back as Lori shoved it open and wrenched her hand back against it. Carol cried out at the pain and before she registered the other woman's furious stance, Daryl was beside her, examining her hand.

"The hell was that?"

Lori didn't back down, ignoring Daryl and his threatening stance. Her eyes were dark as she stared at Carol and she shrunk back at the malice that was in them.

"I lost my baby because of you," Lori spat at her, her body rigid against her pain.

"What?" Carol was having difficulty processing the accusation.

"You shoved me against the truck. This is your fault."

"Lori," Andrea warned, her voice not as soft as it could have been. "You don't know if that's why…and even if it was, if Carol hadn't been there and pushed you out of the way, you'd be dead by now."

"So what? I'm alive but my baby's dead. I'm supposed to be happy about that? I'm supposed to be grateful for that?"

"Stop it," Daryl ordered, his voice low with warning. Carol gripped his arm but her eyes were on her friend, hurt beyond measure.

"It's okay. Lori can blame me. We both know she was already losin' it before the herd even reached the farm. She was already pale and having cramps earlier in the night. Isn't that right, Lori? Who better to blame than the woman who couldn't even protect her own daughter?" Carol shook her head, remembering her earlier concern when they were looking for Carl and noticing that something just wasn't quite right with Lori. Felt the strike of her uselessness as it entered her soul. It looked like that herd hadn't just taken away their home and their safety—their security. Oh no, looked like all manner of things had been lost this night and Carol wondered when the agony of it was going to stop.

Lori seemed to be shocked into some kind of miserable self-evaluation at Carol's words. She seemed to war within herself, conflicting emotions playing a heavy battle of expressions on her face and she opened her mouth, presumably to apologise, but Carol stepped sharply back, bumping into Daryl as she did so. Her head swam and she felt weak suddenly, not wanting Lori's remorse for accusing her of something so terrible, not wanting to absolve herself from the blame of losing Sophia. All at once, all Carol wanted was an out, to get away from the situation before she started screaming and couldn't stop.

Daryl took her hand and started dragging her back toward the bike and calmness shadowed over her. Once they were back on the road, she felt it strengthen, sweeping through her until her breathing evened out, her heart lightened, and her head cleared. She held him a little looser than before, but now she knew without a doubt Daryl was her rock, and if they ever found safety again, she was going to show him that moments between them could be good, not just fraught with mindless panic or desperation to prove they were alive.

* * *

**A/N... **So...what do you think?


	28. Chapter 28

AN….At last, the reunion. I hadn't planned to post this one yet as I haven't managed to write another chapter for my reserve, so you can thank Criminy Jicket for the push ;) Of course, love makes me write faster…or at all apparently…so you know what to do!

**Guest2: **You really DO need to get an account, LOL. I am very grateful for your words and especially that you feel the characterisations have stayed consistent through to almost 30 chapters. It's not an easy thing to do, especially when you forget some of what happened earlier. I truly hope that you stay fond of this fic.

Part Twenty-Eight

Déjà vu hit him as Daryl led their merry little convoy back to the place that had started it all. Rick and Shane waited with Hershel and Carl at the precise place where he'd run into the woods too late to save Sophia from being bitten, and a wave of helplessness threatened to overwhelm him. The night they'd just survived had held its own traumas and none of them could afford for him to lose his shit now, even if he had a choice. Which he didn't. That had been taken away the minute Carol had had her own weak moment where she'd sobbed into his chest, then kissed him in a way that no woman who held a grudge would have. It had been taken away the minute Lori fucking Grimes thought she could blame Carol for the loss of her baby when she apparently should be kissing the woman's feet for saving her useless ass. Carol had been through enough, coming closer to death on the farm than he really wanted to recognise, and now they were back to square one—losing Sophia all over again. It was a kick in the guts that none of them needed, and yet they'd apparently all thought to come here to find each other again, so maybe Sophia was still drawing them all together wherever she was.

He made a crack to Rick about Asian drivers to explain how they'd hooked up again with Glenn and the others, and the relief in everyone to share that small burst of laughter was telling. Carol was quiet at his side, shell-shocked he assumed, as Lori burst from his truck where she'd ridden with Andrea and ran to her boy, and for her sake he was relieved that another kid hadn't been taken from them. He wasn't so heartless to know that would have been a horrifying blow to lose all their young. He wasn't softening toward her, though. She could grovel on her fucking knees until they bled before he'd forgive her for daring to blame Carol for losing a babe she'd been trying to get rid of from the get go.

They stood in a casual circle, discussing where they should go next—Fort Benning being the final, yet hesitant plan and making Shane feel vindicated at last—when the lonely sound of an engine broke through their talk and an unfamiliar car slowly idled to a stop a careful distance away from them. The only ones missing from the group were T-Dog and Jimmy, the latter they knew was dead as the RV had become overrun, so they all stood anxious, hopeful that T was going to swing that door open and stumble from the car all smiles at being reunited with them. After Randall, however, they knew they'd be fools to not be prepared for a more hostile arrival, so guns were drawn and Daryl pushed Carol behind him while he drew his crossbow and aimed it where he anticipated an eye socket would soon be once whoever was in that car got out.

There was nothing on this night that could have prepared him. Could have prepared any of them. With walker blood a heavy scent between them, clothes drying stiffly from their close encounter with death and eradication, the last person any of them had ever thought to see again stepped from that car and shocked them all into speechlessness.

Merle.

They seemed kind of settled into a discussion when Merle pulled his car slowly toward the gathering, and he chuckled as several guns and his brother's familiar crossbow suddenly swung in his direction. He stopped the car far enough away that they couldn't see Sophia, and just in case, he told her to get down and stay down until he called for her.

"Stay here, kid, till I get this all sorted out. Don' want them shootin' you on sight before they know what's goin' on."

Sophia nodded, hunkering down in the seat so she could barely see above the window as he pushed the door open. He unfolded his body and stepped out, his new and improved stump and his good hand raised submissively above his head to the skies.

"Well, well, well," drawled Merle, taking a few easy, measured steps toward the people he hadn't seen for months. The people who'd left him for dead. "Ain't ya'll a sight for sore eyes?" His wandering gaze picked out his brother, appreciating the look of wonder and relief that settled on Daryl's face. "I been lookin' for ya for weeks, little brother. You gonna stand there with your jaw draggin' on the ground or welcome your big bro back to the fold with a pansy-assed hug? Think I might even forgive ya it bein' so long and here was me about to give up hope of ever findin' ya."

"Merle?"

Daryl at least looked pleased to see him, and Merle grinned, feeling a little bit giddy that all his hard work was finally paying off.

"In the flesh, boy."

Daryl rushed forward, threw an arm around Merle's shoulders and slapped him hard on the back. Merle grunted, then laughed, genuinely happy to be finally reunited with his kin. "Thought I was never gonna find ya'll. Been hangin' round these parts for weeks an' was just about to move on when I saw Officer Friendly here in a town with the old man. They shot the shit outta that place and it got overrun before I could catch up." Irritation flashed in his blue eyes as he eyed the cop, but he got over it quicker than he would have weeks ago, more interested in checking out who else was still part of the original group. More interested in checking out Sophia's mother. She looked like she'd been through the fucking mill.

The cops hadn't lowered their guns.

"What do you want, Merle?" It was Shane, his lips shaped in a hard line, eyes darting around at their people like Merle was about to haul off and gut them all.

He gawped at Shane stupidly.

"What do I want?" He waved his bladed stump in the air like it was the answer to everything. "How 'bout a hand? Or a Time Machine so we can go back and not drop the fucking key that left me high an' dry with biters straining at the door to take a bite outta my ass?" The anger was building, but he knew that'd get him nowhere. Could get him ostracised and isolated quicker than another herd blowing in their direction. "Take it easy, Officer. I came for my brother. I came back for the group, as much as ya'll'd love to stick a knife in my back. I ain't meanin' any harm to anyone. In fact, I brought a little gift. Show of good faith an' all. You gotta put those guns down first afore I'll share, though."

"That's a pretty mean lookin' knife you got attached to that arm of yours," Officer Friendly said and Merle answered him with a humourless chuckle.

"Some might say's a bit of an improvement, an' don't get me wrong, comes in mighty handy when the biters are all up close and personal, but if I gotta be honest, I'd'a preferred havin' my hand." The bitterness was still there, surprising Merle a little bit. He'd not stewed on it for weeks now and he'd almost forgotten how much he'd hated these sons of bitches for leaving him in the state they had. Sophia had done so much to redirect his focus that it was almost a shock to find himself back in this place where vengeance seemed like the better course of action. Especially when none of the pricks seemed to believe him. Or show any remorse for their actions.

Merle looked around at them all and tried to think of the best way to do this. His gaze settled on Carol as she stood shivering near his bike, her eyes skittering over him like a scared little mouse. His gift was for her and her alone and it was time enough to do what he needed to in order to right her world again. Ignoring the rest, pushing past his brother when he stupidly tried to get in his way, Merle approached her, flinching as she shuffled back in fear, her blue depths shining with alarm.

He made a tremendous effort to talk softly, intently, hoping she'd see he had no intention of hurting her.

"A little birdie told me you lost somethin' in them woods."

Her head jerked up at him, eyes wide with shock.

"What?"

Merle reached out with his good hand, keeping his knife flat at his side so he didn't appear more threatening than his reputation that obviously preceded him had made him out to be. As if in a daze, she reached out and let him take her hand. He tugged her forward around the bike and toward his car. The others converged on them, but he never broke his gaze with her as he slowly walked backwards to his car. He smiled at her, hoping it looked sincere even while there were guns pointed at his head, and he wasn't missing the crossbow his overzealous brother lifted toward him and which he'd take him to task about later.

"Put it down, Daryl. I ain't gonna hurt her. I'm gonna give this woman the biggest happy I'm thinkin' she's ever likely to have had," he said, throwing her a wink and a grin. He stopped five feet from the car, then called out over his shoulder, still without looking away from the woman. She was drifting out of the spell he'd somehow cast over her and she looked like she wanted to bolt.

"Hey, kid. You can come out now."

The car door creaked open and a skinny girl with light brown, shoulder-length hair stumbled out into the sunlight, her eyes squinting in the brightness. The crowd around them gasped, the crossbow fell forgotten at Daryl's side and shocked tears welled up in Carol's eyes.

"Sophia?"

Merle stepped out of the way, clearing the path between them, a swirl of something in his gut building toward unfamiliar happiness. He felt satisfied—a job well done. Like he was Jesus Christ delivering a goddam miracle.

"Momma?" The girl cried out and before anyone could stop it, before Shane or Daryl could even think to get in the way, mother and daughter ran at each other, both crying and laughing and hugging before collapsing to their knees on the road, the walkers coasting up and down the interstate all but forgotten in their joy to be with one another again.

Merle watched them, his lips coaxed into an indulgent grin and his eyes soft and slightly watery.

"Well don't that warm the cockles of a bitter heart, brother?" Love and good deeds swelled up inside him and Merle tucked an arm around Daryl's shoulders and felt like whooping for joy himself. Didn't matter if these assholes didn't give him the time of day. He'd reunited with his own flesh and blood and brought a child back to her mother—more alive than when she'd lost her. What did he care if the fuckers glared daggers at his back for the rest of his life? Wasn't like they'd ever seen him as anything more than the dumb as shit redneck Officer Friendly had accused him of being back on that roof in Atlanta.

"How the fuck did you…save her?" Daryl grumbled, awe battling in his voice with a surly tone that made Merle stop staring at the mother and daughter and check out his brother warily.

"Prob'ly should wait till we're all gathered roun' the campfire for that little tale, don'tcha think? I'm sure they'll be wantin' me to share all the details of this here genu-wine miracle." He tapped Daryl on the shoulder then spun back to the group, smirking at the collection of dropped jaws and looks of admiration that at least graced the faces of a few of the women—the ones he recognised at least—which weren't as many as he'd hoped. Merle frowned as he looked at Andrea, her expression showing she was impressed as hell.

"Hey, Blondie, where's that pretty lil' sis of yours? Amy?" The way her face dropped and she looked at him with haunted eyes made him want to smack himself up the side of the head, and he wasn't at all surprised when Daryl did it for him.

"What the hell, Bro? Our group's been through shit. If they ain't here, they're dead. Try out a little sensitivity." Daryl walked past him, eyes darting back to the reunited mother and child still sobbing and chattering madly on their knees before settling back to Rick and Shane. "We need to get fuel and blankets an' anything else we can scrounge from here before we head on out. We should head up a bit further than here so we can check out other cars. We probably stripped all the good stuff from the ones close by here the last time."

"We should load all that water Shane found last time in your truck—if it's still here," Glenn said to Daryl, and Shane slapped his own head with his hand.

"Shit. With everything that went down, I can't believe I forgot all about that. Right, Glen and I'll take the truck down and do that—try and find as much food and other shit that we can use. Why don't you and Merle bike down as far as you can and gather fuel," Shane suggested, and Merle felt a sliver of respect begin to grow for the officer that _hadn't _cuffed him to the fucking roof.

Daryl was already shaking his head, jerking his head at his brother's stump. "Need someone that can carry two jerry cans. Merle should stay here an' keep an eye on Carol and Sophia—make sure no walkers sneak up on 'em."

"I can do that," Merle drawled, his eyes a little cold as he glared at his brother for not using that fucking sensitivity he was just spouting about while ordering him to act like a bitch's nursemaid. He wasn't about to argue, though, already seeing a walker heading toward the girls, so he stomped off to deal with it. Once he'd taken out that threat, he leaned against his car, close enough to keep watch but far enough to give them space. It was a good thing he gave a shit about the kid or he'd be pissed off enough to make a little point with his new sharper, deadlier appendage.

"Everyone else stays near the cars," ordered Rick, his voice cracking as he looked over at Sophia and the still healing wound on her neck. "We don't want to get caught too far from a vehicle if another herd hits."

Merle watched as Sophia looked up sharply at the words, fear shuddering through her so that she clung to her mother and Carol held onto her like she'd never let her go again.

"No need to worry, kid. Ole' Merle's here this time to keep an eye on you. I ain't gonna let you go runnin' off and get yerself bit for a second time."

He ignored Rick's poisonous, hate-filled glare, and the threat of retribution that went with it. He couldn't give two shits if Officer Friendly felt guilty for failing the girl. Daryl, though, the expression he aimed at Merle hurt, and the older brother was left confused why Daryl could feel so betrayed about a kid he barely even knew. Hell, Merle had spent more time with this kid than anyone else in this group, save her mother. Suddenly it felt awkward reuniting with a group of people that had lived a world of horror in his absence.

Guess they all had a bit of adjusting to do.


	29. Chapter 29

AN…This chapter is thanks to Criminy Jickets, who seems to beg right at the moment I'm considering posting a chapter. I want to apologise that this fic has slowed down. My reasoning is this…I have now stepped into uncharted waters, so to speak. From here on out this world with be AU from the show, so it's a whole lot more scary and difficult to find the world in which they are all going to walk. I hope you can forgive me as I try to sort it all out. Now, don't forget…reviews warm the heart and spur on the enthusiasm to write quicker!

Part Twenty-Nine

It was weird how the world seemed to finally kick back into motion the second she felt Sophia's body within her arms. She hadn't seen it slow, hadn't felt it stop, except for those too brief moments when spending time with Daryl—feeling his hand rest on her hers, having his lips settle against her own—would kick start it to a spin and then it would falter once again as soon as he was gone. Having Sophia back seemed to right everything and life looked rosier, the sky was bluer, the sun brighter, and Merle Dixon was her very unexpected hero. Somehow she owed everything she was to both Dixon men, and as Sophia cried in her arms, happy to be back, Carol knew she'd never been happier.

Merle caught her eye as he leaned against his car, a yearning expression there that she hadn't the first clue of interpreting. It wasn't Sophia he was watching, it was her, and Carol smiled so warmly at him that she felt she would burst with the heat. This man had brought her baby back, had somehow managed to cure her when this world was flat out of miracles, and together they'd managed to track the group down and return to their rightful place.

Sophia was giggling now, trying too fast to tell her mother weeks' worth of stories and Merle watched on, his eyes flickering sometimes with humour, other times with horror and Carol listened with half an ear as she tried to wrap her head around it all. Realised that she couldn't wait for these stories to be retold with less desperation and more of Merle's input so she could get the full picture of the man who'd saved her little girl.

By the time the fog of happiness was starting to lift enough for Carol to take in things other than her daughter, Daryl and Rick were back with fuel and Shane and Glenn had the truck filled with bottles of water, a few blankets, suitcases and anything else that looked even slightly useful and the discussion once again came around to where they should go. There was a new sense of purpose to it all now—a new feeling of hope had blossomed amongst them all with the appearance of ones they'd lost and had given up hope of ever seeing alive again. Even Merle didn't seem to negatively influence the group, some even eagerly accepting him as a returning hero. Andrea hugged him as he came into the circle of the discussion, and he accepted it along with several crude suggestions of any other shows of appreciation she should feel the need to give. It was amazing to Carol how the blonde merely laughed, slapped at Merle's arm before stepping back to listen to what Rick and Shane were hashing out.

The majority consensus was to head west, toward Fort Benning.

Merle didn't agree and in an astounding show of faith, Shane and Rick let him open his mouth and have his say. Merle checked silently with Daryl at his side, and Carol stood amazed at the wordless connection the brothers had and wondered if it had been as obvious when they'd all first come together. Daryl nodded and took a step back, and while Carol might once have interpreted his stepping aside to Merle as being an act of submission, now she saw it as a deferment of respect. Daryl loved Merle—they'd known that with how he'd reacted to his brother's loss at the quarry—but there was admiration there as well, acknowledgement that Merle wasn't the drugged up asshole with nothing but self-interest that he'd displayed to them all before. She couldn't help but wonder if maybe her baby girl had had a hand in forcing Merle to grow up a little, to stay straight and responsible, focused, and Daryl recognised it immediately.

Merle's eyes were bright as he stood tall before the ex-police officers, confidence brimming in his stance.

"Thinkin' it won't be quite so easy to get through to Fort Benning," he said. " You're forgettin' the cities we'll have to go through to get there, an' if they're even a bit like Atlanta, we're walkin' into more herds. Not to mention, probably cars piled up miles long tryin' to get there like they was tryin' to get to Atlanta an' the refugee camps. I got my reservations that the place will be what ya'll are hopin' it will be anyways. There ain't nobody out there tryin' to help others survive. Sophia told me about the CDC. You think if there was anythin' left that protectin' that wouldn't be top priority?"

Rick nodded, swallowing convulsively, and Carol felt the burden he must be carrying right now as a heaviness that sank right through to the bottom of her feet. She felt a light sweat settle over her flesh as she waited for them to respond, scared out of her wits from the herd they'd just escaped and the invisible ones just waiting for them to stumble right into the middle of it all over again.

Rick was thinking, hands on his hips, looking out at the others who were depending on him. "You're probably right, Merle. But what other choice have we got? We have to at least try and see if there's somethin' else. If there's nothing there, we can focus on finding us someplace safe—somewhere with walls or fences that will keep walkers out. Somewhere we can defend from others that just wanna take whatever we've got."

"Like a prison?" Merle wondered aloud and Carol thought she could actually see the gears working in his head. He was nodding to himself, his face twisted up in a frown. "Look, there's a prison not far from here, but you have ta know. We ain't talked yet about where I been the last months and how I saved Sophia's life, an' we'll get to that, but I don't recommend stayin' 'round here. There's a place…a town called Woodbury run by a fella calls himself the Governor. He ain't right in the head and if he catches up to me and the girl, we're as good as dead." Carol gasped and he looked up, guilt-ridden features another complexity to this man that Carol filed away. "He's more likely to kill all y'all, the men at least." He paused, contemplating, then shook his head once he'd made a decision. "Nah, everyone. He won't want anyone in the town circulatin' rumours about what he done to the rest. Best we leave these parts and try for somewhere more isolated."

"Was Randall from this town of yours?" Shane asked abruptly, his eyes bright from having to contemplate a much bigger picture than the one they'd known of previously.

"Woodbury has jus' over seventy citizens. Didn' know anyone called Randall."

Daryl's interest in the conversation piqued with the mention of Randall, he started pacing in agitation. "So we got two groups we're wantin' to avoid? This just gets better an' better." He looked up at Rick and Carol could see that he seemed to have that silent communication thing happening with him as well, and then she wondered if maybe men just read each other better than women could read them, and she giggled quietly to herself.

"Look, everyone's beat," Glenn butted in, trying to reason. "Why don't we settle down for tonight and hit the road tomorrow? If we head to Fort Benning and hit herds like Merle said, we'll want to be on top of it, not exhausted. And we need a plan so we don't accidentally get separated if we have to run. We got more than one map? Maybe Maggie and I can go find a service station and get enough copies for everyone so we can work out some kind of strategy?"

Rick nodded. "Good idea, Glenn. We'll set up camp here." He pointed on the map to a rest stop enough distance from the Interstate. "I remember passing it before and it had a wall and a bridge that looked reasonable enough to defend."

"There's no tents, Rick," Daryl pointed out. "It's gettin' cold at night. We got enough blankets and shit for everyone to keep warm or we gonna camp out in the cars?"

"I got some shit in my car. Sophia an' I've been collectin' and I took things from Woodbury before I left. There's a tent, couple of sleepin' bags and blankets." A lecherous look took light in Merle's eyes as he looked over the group, his gaze lingering on Carol and her own eyes widened in shock. "We might all just have to huddle up an' use a bit of body on body friction to keep us all warm, if you get what I mean."

Andrea snorted. "Oh, I think we get what you mean, Merle. If I were you, I'd bank on staying cold. Really, really cold."

"Oh come on now, sugar. It don't have to be like that."

Carol watched as Andrea's eyes sparkled, looking the brash man up and down like she was truly contemplating his electric blanket qualities.

"Trust me, honey. I think it does have to be like that."

"It's alright, Blondie. I got other plans, anyways."

Sophia and Carl had finally fallen asleep after excitedly catching up, and Carol felt exhausted. She watched her daughter breathe softly and sent a silent prayer to God for sparing her little girl and showing them that there were indeed miracles still to be had in the world. They'd survived a herd with most of them still intact—and two returned members as well—so Carol was close to thinking that miracles were starting to be thick on the ground, and she was so grateful for the turn in their luck.

Daryl hadn't come near her since Merle had shown up. He'd barely looked at her since Sophia had launched herself into her arms, and she didn't know what to think of that. She didn't know if he was nervous about being around her, if it was awkward for him to be around the reality of Sophia, or if there was something deeper that she was missing. All she knew was that while one need had been quenched with the return of her daughter, another was ignored and she craved him like she never had before. She felt so happy to be able to once again feel the soft strands of her daughter's hair in her fingers, to hear the sweet tinkle of her laughter and more than anything she wanted to share her joy with Daryl at her side.

Glenn was on watch when the questions started. Lori, curled up protectively in Rick's arms and still pale as a ghost, looked across the fire at Merle. Carol had noticed that Lori was keeping her distance after her accusation earlier, and while it hurt, she was relieved as well. She had no difficulty understanding why Lori had blamed her for the loss of her baby—it was a visceral reaction to pain and she really had shoved her quite hard to get her out of the path of the walkers—but understanding her friend's pain and need to strike out and cast blame didn't put words in her mouth. It didn't make her come up with the exact phrase to speak to help them get past the moment and go back to how things were. Carol believed it would happen, the awkwardness would dissipate, Lori would apologise and all would be forgiven, but for now the brunette was grieving the loss of her baby and Carol was celebrating the return of hers. They had no common ground in this moment.

"Tell us how you found her." Even though her voice was weak, Lori wasn't asking. Carol recognised the steel in the other woman's voice, but she recognised it as something Lori needed to do to quiet her own heartbroken thoughts of what she was going through, rather than trying to be a bitch toward Merle. He seemed to understand, talking quietly and without any of his usual crassness.

"Governor sent me out on a run and Sophia ran out onto the road. Damn near run her down. I recognised her—didn' tell them that, though." His chuckle seemed to contain a world of darkness that Carol could only guess at. "They have a scientist-type there, name of Milton. He's into all kinds of experiments on biters and shit. Thought if the kid had any chance of makin' it, he'd be the one to know."

"He has a cure?" Hershell asked, leaning forward with a look of miserable curiosity on his face.

Merle shook his head. "Ol' Milt found out it don't work if they done turned already. That's what set the Gov'nor off. He ordered me to take her out and kill her after Milt had cured her. Knew it was time to hightail it outa there. He sees us, we're dead."

"What did this Milton do to her?" Shane asked, crouching across the fire from Merle, expression curious.

Merle shrugged, but in his next breath it seemed pretty obvious he'd been watching the process like a hawk. "Excised the flesh around the wound, gave her antibiotics for the infection, packed her body in ice—they got generators and shit there like you wouldn't believe. Had some kind of drug he was injectin' into her—don't know what that was but I swiped some before we left. Good thing, too, 'cause she started burnin' up again when we were on the road."

"You kept her alive?" Daryl stared at his brother, his eyes wide with surprise.

"What's so shockin' 'bout that, baby brother? You's alive, ain'tcha?"

"What? You think that's any thanks to you? Kept my own damn ass alive, Jackass."

A deep, rumbling laugh erupted from Merle's throat and Carol felt helpless to be anything but mesmerised by the play between the brothers. "An' who the hell taught ya everythin' ya know?"

"I read books, with pictures and shit," Daryl admitted with a grin, and the group around the camp snickered.

"Well ya musta stole those books from me, bro. 'Ceptin' I'm sure they was _magazines,_ not books. Bet they was some real motivatin' pictures, too." He winked at Daryl and Daryl's face lit up like the Christmas tree in Times Square.

"Shut up," he grumbled, then found his feet and stomped off to relieve Glenn from watch.

The camp's laughter followed him and he stuck up his middle finger at them as he retreated. Carol smiled. This was a new, carefree Daryl she'd only seen glimpses of, before their group had been crushed with loss. This Daryl made her heart beat erratically, made her gaze linger on his ass as he launched himself up onto the wall to take over from Glenn. When he turned and looked down at her, a subtle lift at the corners of his mouth showing he was actually comfortable with the teasing he'd just received, Carol knew her expression was dreamy. She was beaming and she couldn't stop it, couldn't hold anything back, didn't want to. She was happy, and loving Daryl was part of it. She just hoped he'd let her in enough someday soon so she could tell him so.

His brother was back.

Since he'd ridden onto the Interstate with Carol at his back, reunited with their group and been confronted with the return of Merle and Sophia, Daryl hadn't allowed himself to stop and think. Now he had no choice, perched up on the wall and keeping watch from walkers. Only, his eyes weren't drawn outward at what might be coming at them. He was too busy looking at the campfire—enthralled by how much Merle was trying to subtly gain Carol's attention. Mystified by how he went and collected a blanket from his pile of useful shit and draped it over Sophia and Carl as they slept by the fire. It didn't take much for Daryl to see his brother had changed—there was a softness to him he'd never seen before, even though Merle would probably try to smother it if Daryl was stupid enough to point it out.

When his brother returned to the fire, it was to a position that kept Sophia in plain sight. Daryl was impressed at this strange new awareness Merle seemed to have for another human being, and in his heart he was grateful that he'd been able to return Sophia to them alive, but he couldn't quite suppress the little piece inside of him that was pissed as hell that Merle was the one. The one who'd found Sophia—the one who'd fucking _saved _her.

The one who'd brought her back to her mother.

If there was one thing Daryl was, it was observant. He took things in that others seemed to regularly miss, and what he was currently taking in was that Carol was so starry-eyed for his brother it was making him sick. She practically swelled with worship, and he growled low in his throat as Carol shuffled closer to Merle and kept talking to him well into the night. Eventually, when she'd fawned over him enough, offering her undying gratitude, she returned to her daughter side and shared the blanket her saviour had provided. He watched as his brother eyed her over, smirking to himself with what appeared to be self-satisfaction before lying back in the dirt where he promptly fell asleep.

Daryl wasn't stupid. He could see plain as day what was happening. Merle had spent weeks looking after Sophia—keeping her alive through her fever, feeding her, protecting her from walkers all the while searching for their group. He'd…bonded, like some kind of bandage to skin. Merle didn't bond—at least, not that Daryl had ever seen before. Either his brother had grown up since cutting off his own hand, or he'd found something that he felt gave his life meaning. He'd found a kid and he was acting like her daddy. He hated to admit that it wasn't much of a step up from her real one, but it still pissed him off. Still made him feel squeezed out.

Daryl didn't know exactly why it pissed him off, just that it did, and it wasn't something he was going to let go of anytime soon.

Funny thing about this particular kid, she had a mother, and as Daryl narrowed his eyes across the camp, he suddenly worked out Merle's plan. The asshole was fixing to reward his heroic deeds with an already made family. Right, so now he knew why he was pissed off and he definitely wouldn't be getting over it in a hurry.

Weariness slammed into him like a meaty fist to the gut. As the rest of the camp closed their eyes on the night, Daryl was busy thinking how completely fucked up his day had been. It had started out with a funeral and ended up with his brother making a play for his…what? His woman? Carol was his, no matter what Merle thought, no matter what Carol thought, though Daryl knew he was too gutless to even make a claim for her. Too scared of his own damned shadow and shortcomings to say to hell with it all and just throw down with her in front of the whole group. They'd kissed. He'd held her in his arms while she cried out more grief than any woman should ever have to deal with, and, in a seriously twisted show of relief and gratitude that she was alive, he'd fucked her. He'd fucked her naked on top of a car on the side of the road, and they still hadn't discussed any of it.

Tearing his eyes away from her as she slept soundly beside her daughter, he walked casually yet silently back and forth along the wall, seeking out any rustling in the surrounding area that might indicate a walker was nearby. He had a violent urge to kill something and as the group was all crawling up Merle's ass as the returning hero, it wasn't going to be his brother. His teeth gnawed at the rough skin tag at the side of his thumbnail while he tried to tamp down his panic.

She didn't seem to hate him. After. It was awkward, but she hadn't turned her back on him. No, she'd smiled a little while ago as he'd come on watch, beamed at him like he was her sun. Their first time might have been rough, violent and fast but after the adrenaline of running for their lives, he'd been driven by pure panic to reassure himself she was fine—that he hadn't lost her when he could so easily have done.

Even when Merle didn't even know Daryl had something, he was going to come along and take it. Dread swirled crazily in his gut, and he swallowed hard, trying to hold back the inevitable. His brother had saved her kid—she would feel she owed him the greater debt. Sophia probably already thought of Merle as her daddy, so where the hell did that leave him? It was going to be a natural progression that Carol would drift toward Merle—he was charismatic when he wanted to be. He could reign in the crass and push out the charm like nobody's business—if he had a reason to.

The whole stupid situation was tying him up in knots. He should just be happy Sophia was back and that she was alive—and he was. The happiness Carol felt radiated from her and lit everyone up around her. Hope and morale had returned to the group and it had the face of a little girl and a one-handed man. He _was _happy Sophia was alive, and he was relieved and grateful to have his brother back.

Didn't mean he wasn't devastated that the hero of the piece wasn't him.


	30. Chapter 30

AN… Not much to say except, wow, lots of new reviewers! My son wants me to take him shopping for cardboard, so, hope you all enjoy this one. I'm struggling with new chapters so all the encouragement you can give me will work wonders, I'm sure ;)

Part Thirty

Shane circled the perimeter for about the eighth time during his watch, getting the hang now of pacing his boots so that he didn't snap every damned twig on the ground and cause someone previously asleep to startle awake. He wondered if Daryl—who seemed lost in thoughts about Carol first, and then his brother if that frown on his face was anything to go by—noticed and approved of his efforts to be stealthy. Corrupting the whole idea of it, he chuckled. He could see Rick stirring from Lori's tight embrace to look over at him, raising a brow at his impromptu burst of humour. Wasn't like he was going to tell his best friend how amused he was that his actions were causing him to seek approval from a redneck.

He shook his head at Rick, the smile falling slowly from his lips as his gaze returned to their surroundings and his feet picked up his worn path once again. He'd done little else but think of Lori most of the night. Everyone knew by now she'd lost the baby. Andrea had taken Rick aside to break the news when they'd all first reunited on the road, and Rick had then taken him aside and told him. He'd felt overcome at first, concentrating on his own grief and it was the first time it really hit him that the baby might truly have been his, and how now he might never get the chance to be a father. One look at Rick's face and he knew his friend was wondering where this left them. Wondering if this loss would be the thing that would help to dissipate the strain between them or if it would create added height to the wall that had been building since Rick had been recovered in Atlanta. Shane didn't have an answer yet, but he was hoping for things to steady out now and that they'd get back to the job of keeping people safe. Because, that's who they were. They were the law, the only barrier between themselves and whatever else was out there. They had people to protect—women and children and by default of what all else was missing in the world, they were now all family to each other, whether they liked it or not.

So, with grief in his heart but relief as well, Shane had nodded to Rick, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he looked over at Lori and saw the devastation on her face. He wasn't sure what it was she'd lost—whether she actually grieved for the loss of a child, the loss of her last possible link with him, or just the devastation this world had created in her life. Whatever it was for her, he had to hand it all over to Rick as he finally knew without any further doubt—he had no place in her life. It hurt, but then so did the understanding that he may have just lost his only chance at having a son or a daughter.

In his previous life he'd been far from approaching the event of fatherhood with anything but horror. He wasn't done sowing his wild oats—he hadn't reached that point with any woman he'd lived with or given a sweet word to who he'd have considered good enough to raise his kid with, but that hadn't meant he hadn't figured it would happen someday. That was back in a world full of women. These days his world consisted of a total of six of them, and three of those were already taken, four, if you put Patricia in the no-go zone—which he had. He'd killed her husband. No way he'd ever be able to look that woman in the eye, let alone contemplate anything else even close to physical.

Andrea was his best choice—his only choice if he didn't want a shotgun to the head for trying to defile a criminally young Beth. He couldn't quite see Andrea as the maternal type, though. She was far too smart to fall pregnant with the threat of walkers constantly around, and if he had to tell the truth, he'd never be able to put a woman through that kind of fear—put his own flesh and blood in this kind of danger. Especially not Andrea, not after she'd lost a part of herself cradling the dead body of her sister. Not after seeing the devastation for Carol when she'd thought her girl was dead. So, unless a miracle occurred, his last chance of being a father had bled out during their frantic evacuation from the farm.

His gaze slipped across the sleeping members of the group once again and fell on Sophia, and that smile he'd banished earlier found its way back with a vengeance. It seemed the world wasn't yet quite ready to stop dishing out miracles. Sophia Peletier being alive and well was the biggest miracle Shane thought he'd ever heard of—bigger than Jesus turning water into wine, though he wouldn't scoff if the son of God decided to come and offer that one on replay. They deserved a celebration of sorts—they'd escaped with their lives tonight. Except for Jimmy and T-Dog, and while he felt bad about losing them, he wasn't going to shove aside this sensation of amazement that they'd mostly made it out, kept ahead of hundreds of walkers, and then met up with Merle and Sophia in what he now saw as perhaps the third miracle of the night.

Shane knew that Rick was biting his tongue in regards to Merle, and that he was instrumental in keeping Glenn from cowering in a corner. Rick hadn't known Merle in camp—he'd been a mean sonovabitch, for sure, but he'd been a vital member of the group when he wasn't high. He'd ingratiated himself in a surprising manner—hunting with Daryl, contributing some of the funniest stories around the nightly campfire, mostly lewd that Shane absolutely appreciated even if the ladies hadn't, and he'd kept watch with an avid concentration that Shane had to admire. When he was high—which had been surprisingly less often than he'd expected, especially after seeing his not-so-small stash—he was an asshole through and through. It was a mistake to let him go on that run into the city but he'd trusted the older brother with the knowledge of how serious and precarious their situation with the walkers was. Never in his life would he have pegged Merle to get high on that roof and then rain bullets down on the streets below—the clanging of a dinner bell if ever there was one. Dumb bastard deserved to be handcuffed on the roof. He _hadn't_ deserved being left behind—none of them did. Not one of their own. He had no problem with the guy, was even ready to throw him a goddam parade after he'd looked after that little girl and brought her back to Carol. For all his faults—and Shane was sure there were many—Merle Dixon was alright in his book. He'd managed over time to see the value in Daryl, and it _had_ taken a while. Looking at the brothers now, he wasn't so sure Merle was much different, though maybe more scarred emotionally than even Daryl knew. A hardass in control of his own life didn't turn to drugs just for the kick of it. They didn't put their own lives at risk in a city full of walkers unless they were screwed in the head and fighting demons no one else had seen. Finding this kid had worked its own miracle, Shane was willing to bet.

His shift was coming to an end and as he allowed himself to think of sleep, his body succumbed to bone deep weariness that he'd so far managed to ward off. He watched as Rick stood away from his wife, strapping his gun to his belt and picking up a knife. They really needed to find more weapons, Shane thought, sweeping the group again and feeling overwhelmed with how much of their supplies had been left behind. He wondered if trying to push through to Fort Benning was really the right choice now, or if his sheer stubbornness was pushing him to fight for a course of action that no longer made any sense. Merle had been right—if the CDC was gone, how likely was it for a military base to still be standing, and if only one biter had made it through those gates, they could be breaking into a compound that had thousands of walkers ready to tear them all to shreds. A sliver of doubt settled on Shane and he tried to think, tried to decide within himself if he should talk again to Rick and express his unlikely agreement with Merle. He didn't think Rick would go for it, even though he knew it was a mistake, even though on the surface it looked like he was giving Merle more consideration than he thought he deserved.

Rick went and gently shoved Glenn awake and the Korean stumbled to his feet, roughly rubbing his eyes as he prepared for watch. Shane decided to sleep on it, hoping a refreshed mind would guide him on what would be the best thing for the group to do. He had to keep them alive, and if backing down and admitting heading out to Fort Benning was a mistake, then he'd just have to man up and say so.

Blinking tiredly, he made his way toward the fire, keeping his steps quiet and even, watching carefully for twigs that would easily snap under the weight of his boot. He grinned again, confidence in himself and his newfound skill exciting him like nothing else had in a while. He threw down near Merle after grabbing up Glenn's discarded blanket, and the second his eyes closed, he was out.

* * *

"You need to watch your back," Rick hissed quietly into Glenn's ear as he came up for watch. The two men had reached the wall, Daryl hopping down almost silently to change over. The three of them huddled in the dark, alert and dangerous.

"Hell yeah, you both need to watch it." Daryl shifted from one foot to the other, nervously checking the campfire before standing up straighter and looking Rick dead in the eye. "Merle's softened, but he ain't never gonna let neither of you forget leavin' him up on that roof. He's on his best behaviour for now but he's gonna explode sometime. Shit, if it'd been me you'd left up there, I'd have slit your damn throats by now."

Rick startled at Daryl's harshly whispered threat. He peered over at the people scattered around the campfire and sighed his relief at Merle's gentle snores indicating he was definitely sleeping. "You think he's finally bringin' that vengeance back to camp?"

"I think you assholes underestimate how smart he is. There's somethin' goin' on with him. He has a plan an' it's all about Sophia. I think he genuinely cares about that kid, and what he done for her ain't nothin'. He kept her alive and he's been searchin' to bring her back to her momma." His eyes settled on their leader and he breathed deep through his nose before sharing what he really thought. "Think he's alone now. All he's got is us. Sees himself as that little girl's protector and he ain't gonna do nothin' to mess that up, but that don't mean he's not gonna stir shit up first chance he gets."

Glen rolled his eyes. "Great. Tell me why we aren't seeing him as a threat the same as Randall again? We already know Merle's a snake in the grass. How do we know he's not going to explode and kill us all in our sleep?"

Daryl shot the Asian a steely glare. "A snake in the grass?" Daryl looked disgusted, like he truly couldn't believe the way this group had built the image of Merle up into some kind of anti-Christ. So he'd got high and started a fight. Not like he'd killed a man to escape walkers and bring back medical equipment. He'd cut off his own hand after what they'd done to him and he was the snake in the grass? "First of all," he huffed furiously, struggling to keep his voice low and not waking anyone in the camp. "He's my brother, so you can forget about puttin' a bullet in his brain. Second, he ain't a murderer. He's gonna bitch, make things real uncomfortable for you two, but he'll do what he hasta for the group. You gotta problem, you bring it to me first." He made prolonged eye contact with them both, proving how deadly serious he was that there'd be repercussions if they took any action against his brother without informing him of it first. "You ain't gonna get nothin' you don't deserve." He stalked off at Rick's stiff nod of acknowledgement, settling himself an arm's length from where Carol lay and closed his eyes.

* * *

"You get the feeling that the last weeks just never even happened?" Glenn asked nervously, keeping his eyes on the angry hunter before sharing a look of regret with Rick.

"Sad to say, he's right. As much as I'd love to say Merle's the villain in this, he's not. We left him behind on that roof. I should never have left that key with T-Dog."

Glenn started to pace, his agitation real in memory. "He was _high, _Rick. He wanted to take over and take us all down with him. He's a racist shit and just because he brought Sophia back to us, it doesn't mean he's changed."

Rick stared at the man in question, saw the relief that seemed to have settled on his face, took in the lethal knife attachment to his stump, took in the protective angle he'd fallen into so that he'd be able to snap awake and protect Sophia first and foremost should he need to. "I'm not so sure on that. Kids have a funny way of changing even the most hardened of assholes. He's been on the road with her for weeks. Look at her, Glenn. She's clean, she's healthy, she's _alive. _ You think if it'd been Ed Peletier and Sophia stuck out there alone without Carol she'd be in anywhere near the healthy state she's in now?" Rick clutched the knife in his hand, shame washing over him as he remembered that day when Glenn had saved his life and brought him back to his family—the same day he'd left Merle to die and take away the only family Daryl had left. "Her own father would have left her for dead. As much as I hate to admit it, Merle Dixon stood up. I think we owe him the benefit of the doubt."

Glenn hefted a shaky breath and his shoulders sagged. "Yeah. Guess we need to be grateful for that. We all thought she was dead and he went and saved her life. I suppose that deserves…something."

"Yeah," Rick agreed, rubbing a tired hand over his face. "He deserves at least that."

"You two best get to climbin' that fuckin' wall before walkers come on in and eat us," Daryl hissed loud enough to make a few bodies stir, but it startled the two men enough that Rick quickly scrambled up the wall and Glenn took to walking around the edge of their camp. "Keep it down, Chinaman. Shit, Shane's bigger an' you and he moved around like a fuckin' ballerina compared to your elephant feet."

* * *

Daryl woke her early. His hand circled her forearm and she jerked awake, smiling when she saw him.

"Hey," she greeted, relieved when he gave her a small, self-conscious smile before holding out a small parcel of goodies.

"Merle had a whole heap of shit stashed in his car. Towel, soap and stuff. Thought you might want to wash some of that walker gunk off you before we head out. There's a stream back there I can take you to an' Merle said he'd watch Sophia while we're gone."

"Oh." She didn't know what to say, speechless that he'd thought of her. Or maybe he'd smelled her. Now that she thought about it, she was a bit filthy and stinky.

"Come on, we ain't got all day. Rick'll want to get movin' as soon as it's light."

Carol quickly stood, spreading her blanket out over Sophia, her hand softly stroking her daughter's hair before she straightened up, grabbed her bag and went to follow Daryl. She didn't know how he could stay up half the night on watch—keeping them all safe—then sleep for a few hours before starting it all over again. She threw a grateful smile and a wave at a surprised Merle before they headed out behind the wall that protected the camp and she could hear the sound of crickets and birds as they started to stir for the morning.

Carol didn't think she'd ever been so happy to see water in her life as the stream came into view. Daryl's hand clasped hers and he gently pushed her to sit on some large rocks on the water's edge. He wet a washcloth and soaped it up in the water, then brought it back and instructed her to close her eyes. With a touch that was gentle and soothing, Daryl washed away the dirt and black walker gunk that had stuck to her skin, hopefully banishing some of the horror she'd suffered the night before. Her face, then her neck and without his asking, Carol whipped off her shirt and sat with her eyes firmly closed as the cloth ventured over curves he'd brutalised the night before as he'd checked her for bites. The cloth barely skimmed across her nipple and yet it was the most erotic thing she'd ever felt, suddenly wishing she could open her eyes to watch him but wary of the soap on her lids stinging and ruining everything. When he did it again to her other nipple, she couldn't bite back the moan and shudder of desire, goosebumps springing up over her flesh everywhere.

"I'm sorry…for what I did," he said, awkward as his hand stilled just above her breast.

"Daryl? Can you wash the soap off my face? I want to be able to open my eyes for this talk."

* * *

Her body was flawless. Beautiful. Never in any of his dreams had he imagined she'd ever truly be open to him. Never truly take him in and treat him as if he belonged. He never thought she'd _trust _him, especially after the way he'd torn at her clothes like an animal, invaded her body and taken the comfort of her life beneath his hands without even asking. He didn't deserve her, let alone the trust she'd just shown by stripping off her shirt and allowing him to view her when she couldn't even open her eyes to see how he looked back.

He was a coward, soaping her face and leaving it there so she couldn't open them and see how afraid he was around her. She'd called him on it and now he had no choice but to rinse her off, and face the consequences of his lapse of control.

He gulped hard, his hands shaking as he went back to the stream to rinse out the soap. He stood before her, unmoving, wanting more than anything to take away what had happened and go back to the awkward two step they were dancing before, let it go back to that slow build toward something he could live with. What he didn't want was for her to open her eyes and show how much disappointment she held toward him. He couldn't leave her exposed like this forever, though, so with a deep breath and a healthy dose of courage, he wiped the soap off her face and handed her the towel.

Rinsing out the cloth again, he handed it to her and stepped back, staring at his boots while she finished cleaning up and dressing. She stood in front of him, waiting for him to meet her gaze and, when he didn't, her hand reached out to him and she placed her palm against his chest.

"You don't have to be sorry." Her voice was a whisper on the wind and it blew through him like a reassuring wind that made him shudder. "Being stuck in the middle of all those walkers was…" Her hand shook at what must have been the vivid memory of being confronted with the possibility of such a violent, gruesome death and what she'd had to do to make it out of there and back to him. "I fought, Daryl. I kept swinging that damned hatchet because if I didn't, I knew I'd be gone. I'd be bitten, just like…and I'd never see you again." There were tears in her eyes, stubbornly held back until they brimmed over and splashed down onto his boots. "That's what that was, out there on the road. You were scared for me, weren't you? It's okay to be scared. I'm scared every time you go off huntin' or on a run."

He looked up then, unable to keep his fear bottled up inside anymore. Trying to hide from her, from everyone, took so much energy that he felt exhausted and weary from doing absolutely nothing. "I needed to know you weren't bit. I needed to know…that you'd live. That you weren't goin' anywhere."

A warm smile blossomed on her face and he stood in awe of this woman—the tears in her eyes, the warmth in the way she ate up his features in a single heated look, the gentleness of her hand as she reached up and curved her palm against the side of his face. He wanted more than anything to touch her, hold her, but there wasn't time—never was the time.

"I'm not goin' anywhere. At least, not without you."

It was a declaration of sorts and he froze, not sure what to do. It was one thing to slowly drift into a physical relationship, to admit in his own head that she was something special with whom he wanted more, but no words had escaped his lips to cement anything. Nothing, except for a desire to always see her safe. Heat hummed beneath the surface of his skin and Daryl took a small step back, wondering if he had the courage to open himself up to her or if the sound of Merle's laughter in his head at the situation he found himself in might curtail any impulse he ever had to just give in and give her what she seemed to be asking for.

"Didn' want it to happen like that," he said as a way of backing out, sidestepping what he knew he should be saying.

"Next time it won't." She stepped into him, her nervousness manifested in her hand's hesitation to reach out to him, even as her eyes pleaded with him, pleaded for something he felt completely unable to answer. Her palm seemed to hover across his heart and she made as if to kiss him.

He took another quick step back, hardly knowing why he did and wishing he hadn't as hurt flashed in her eyes.

"I'm glad Sophia's back." His tone didn't really sound glad, but he was, and as a subject buster, it sucked. He was so relieved Sophia was alive and that the deep-seated grief that had been killing something inside Carol had merely been swept away like it had never existed, though her reappearance was causing a whole new rash of fears to stir inside him. It didn't achieve what he'd hoped, though, and that raw energy of awareness clung to the moment until he felt stifled and dumb.

Her whole body trembled and Carol threw her arms around herself, making him feel like a shit heel. Sucking up his reservations and cursing his own stupid insecurities, he gathered her up into his arms and felt her melt against him. He held her tightly, almost gasping into her hair in relief that she still wanted him to touch her despite everything that had happened between them.

"I'm happy for you, too," she said, her lips hovering against his throat, her breath sending a surge of heat through him. "You've got your brother back."

Daryl snorted a laugh into her hair. "There's some around here think him comin' back is more a curse than a miracle."

She pulled back and he felt the loss immediately.

"But what he's done…he's been fightin' to return to us, and not just for Sophia. He's earned his place as much as anyone else."

He couldn't help it, there was nothing about this woman that didn't amaze him—that didn't make him want her more every second he spent around her, and now she was championing his brother like she had him. He'd never known anyone to do that for either of them growing up, and as he allowed her easy acceptance of him and his brother to seep through him, he focused on her lips. They were pink, plump and slightly parted and before he'd made the conscious choice, they were against his, stealing his breath, making his refusal to embrace her declaration to him little more than a farce. Her fingers sifted through his hair, holding him closer, harder to her as she opened her mouth and fed on him greedily. It was more passion than he'd ever known and while it terrified him, this thought of handing control of himself over to another, he couldn't deny that the sensation was coursing through his blood, buckling him toward the inevitable desperation for more. His body took over, his brain mercifully shut off as her hands moved over his shoulders, his chest, his waist, frantic to touch him as much as she could before the spell was broken. She'd taken over, nibbling at his lips before diving back in to consume him with naked need, but just as he was about to tear off her shirt and take it to a place they both wanted it to go, take all that she was offering, the snap of someone trampling through the woods behind them broke them apart abruptly, his chest heaving as he drew in frantic breaths.

Shane broke through the fog of his lust with a few suggestive statements and he almost snapped at the man as he saw Carol's cheeks flush. She was grinning, however, gathering up their supplies as she hurried toward camp.

"Hey, man, you ready to go, or you wanna stay and relieve some of that pent up tension first?"

Shane didn't wait for Daryl's response, jogging back to camp before the redneck turned around and shot an arrow at his ass.


	31. Chapter 31

AN…My deepest apologies for stalling on this fic. I only have one more chapter in reserve so I need to get my big girl pants on and get to writing. I'd love to hear what you all think of this one—I love writing Merle and I'm wary of making him to fluffy and kitten now he's with the group. If you also like my Merle, and you haven't read it already, I've just completed a Marol/Caryl fic called A Change In Plans. Caryl fans won't be disappointed, that is all I'm saying, though it did awaken me to the potential of Marol!

Part Thirty-One

Her limbs ached. Lori carefully pushed herself up off the ground, her stomach tender, her eyes crusted over from crying through the night, and she succumbed to her body's urgent message that she was suffering. She'd lost her baby. Sure, there were no doctors and their magical instruments that could tell her for certain, but she knew. She'd had enough miscarriages in the past to know that when a clot the size of your thumb, a gelatinous mass rather than just pure blood, tore itself from your body when there wasn't meant to be blood at all, that it wasn't telling anything good.

She felt so ashamed for feeling grief at the loss. Less than a week ago she'd swallowed six or more pills in an effort to be rid of it, wanting nothing more than for the confusion of her womb to do what it usually did since she'd fallen pregnant and birthed Carl, and rid her of the mental anguish of not knowing whose child she carried. Only, she hadn't expected to feel so hollow. Hadn't expected to feel so wretched and broken and certainly hadn't expected to have to deal with it all centre stage to a bunch of people that were strangers to her a couple of months before.

She'd felt their eyes on her all night, despite the excitement of Merle and Sophia returning to them. She'd tried to sleep but the burn of their eyes, their imagined murmurs about poor Lori and that baby that could be either Rick's or Shane's had sent her into such a violent mind spin that she felt dizzy when she finally was able to stand.

The one person who hadn't looked at her—who hadn't watched her for the moment when she'd fall apart—was Carol. A thick, hard tangle of fear had settled in her stomach as she contemplated Carol. She couldn't explain why she'd attacked her like she had. All she knew was that she hurt, that the agony of her loss had clawed at her throat, had settled in her head, wasted away her energy as it shot around her for a place to settle. It didn't find one place—it found every place and the only way Lori felt she could get rid of it was to lash out and make everyone around her burn. Only she hadn't lashed out at Andrea. She hadn't lashed out at Patricia or Beth, or Glenn when he'd found them. No, she'd saved it all up for Carol, the confidante and friend who had supported her in her foolish thoughts about this baby, who'd given her hope and confidence that if she'd had to go through with it, it could be done. Carol, the woman who'd lost her own daughter through no fault of her own but who blamed herself anyway. The one woman who she'd known without a shadow of a doubt that she could make _hurt _as much Lori was hurting.

Lori moaned at remembering the angry, selfish, bitter bitch she'd been the day before as her baby's life had flowed free of her body, wanted to flay herself for being so unbelievably cruel to her one real friend out of them all. Sophia might be here now but at the time of her words, Carol had been a grieving mother and Lori had no excuse to blame Carol for any of it. No excuse to try to hurt her in any way at all. No explanation other than wanting someone to feel pain like she was.

She needed to make it right with her, as soon as she could.

Merle let Sophia sleep in as the camp slowly started to move. First up had been Daryl—old habits never died, apparently, and Merle grinned. God, he'd missed his brother. Had missed the certainty to life that came with having flesh and blood within arm's reach. What he hadn't liked was the way Daryl had hovered over Sophia's mother, shaking her awake before taking her off towards the stream so she could clean up a bit. It was a strange thing for his brother to do. He'd never seen Daryl say more than two words to a woman before and he'd certainly never touched one unless it was to push them away. Daryl getting chummy with Sophia's mother was not a part of Merle's plan. Now was not the time for Daryl to grow a pair or work out he had softer feelings that he was able to share with others.

Sophia finally stirred when Carl did, sitting bolt upright in fear until she remembered where she was and why there was so much action going on around her. Her eyes went to him first, relief shining in them as she smiled, and then she started looking around for her mother, growing frantic when she didn't see her.

"Don't fret," he told her, launching himself to his feet and going to squat beside her. "She's just gone to get cleaned up before we move out. She won't be long."

Before he'd finished speaking, Carol appeared back in camp, Daryl following like a faithful dog behind her. Merle narrowed his eyes at his brother, taking quick note of the protective stance and the heightened colour of Daryl's cheeks as he shot some barbed comments at the cop that had preceded them back to camp.

When they'd all chased some small portions of food down their throats—thanks to Merle once again having shit stored in his car for this very eventuality—they packed up and headed back to the vehicles. Merle hadn't asked anyone, taking for granted after weeks of practise that Sophia was his responsibility to keep safe, and the pair headed to his car. He turned just in time to see the look of shock on Carol's face and he frowned. Of course, she _could _travel in someone else's car, but it made no sense for him to drive alone and he didn't think Sophia would have left his side, even if he gave her a shove.

"Merle." Daryl ran over to him, shot a strange look at Sophia then informed him he'd load the bike onto the truck and that he and Carol would ride with them. He shrugged , like he gave a shit what Daryl did with the bike. His little brother's rush to be in the car with his brother and this woman, though, that was starting to make him think, and he didn't like what thoughts were starting to unfurl.

After the bike was safely stowed on the back of Daryl's blue truck and the bottles of water and other things secured around it, the younger Dixon detached the crossbow from his back and effortlessly slid into the passenger seat beside Merle, Sophia already in the back with her mother. Daryl didn't even look back and Merle sat in his seat, satisfied that everything was as it should be. Not that he wasn't going to keep a careful eye on the pair but for now, things seemed tolerable and that would have to be enough for him.

He caught up with Daryl while they travelled, though predictably, Daryl got through over a month of being on the run in a matter of sentences. Not one to mince words, his little brother, and Merle huffed out a laugh of appreciation. He didn't think he'd ever heard Daryl succumb to mindless chatter. Shit like that usually ended up hurting—one way or another.

They'd been on the road for forty minutes when they reached their first hurdle. Cars littered the highway, chaos evident at the landscape of overturned cars, corpses fixed in macabre poses as they sat facing down a monstrosity they had no chance of escaping. The scene was becoming the standard as the cars idled to a stop. Merle wound the window down, waiting for the word from up front about what the plan would be. From where he sat, it looked like it would be impossible to push their way through and his lips thinned. He'd tried to tell them, predicted it would be futile to try and get a caravan of cars through endless interstates and at least two cities to get to Fort Benning. Not everyone would have attempted to make it to Atlanta when shit went down. It was more than a decent bet to think the majority of people would have tried to get to the army base. After all, what really did Atlanta have to offer survivors compared to an Army base with thousands of personnel? Numerous resources.

Shane came jogging up, stopping car by car until he got to Merle's.

"Rick's decided to call it. Looks like the only way we could get to Fort Benning is if we fly, an' you know we ain't doin' that. An' like Merle said before, unlikely there's anyone left there that can help us out anyway."

Daryl squinted as he watched the ex-cop for any sign of discontent at the abandoned plan. "You all right with that?"

Shane grinned, cocky self-assurance at the ready. "Yeah, got to thinkin' about it during watch and figured as much. Thought it was worth a shot and now we've had it. So, we'll try and siphon fuel here—ladies stay in the cars so we can head off soon as we can. Rick's got a map if ya'll want to come out and work out what we try next?"

Merle wound the window back up as Shane walked off, then turned back to talk to Sophia and Carol.

"You do like he said, stay in the car. If biters come along, you'll be fine 'till we make it back."

Sophia nodded before suddenly launching forward and giving Merle a quick hug. "You be careful."

"You too, sugar lump," he sassed then threw the door open and climbed out. "You comin', baby bro or are you gonna sit here and be one with the ladies?"

Daryl rolled his eyes before following his brother, leaving Carol alone yet safe in the car with her daughter.

His good hand stuffed into his pants pocket, Merle surveyed the area around him as he made toward the little gathering at the Cherokee in the middle of their little caravan. Rick was standing over the hood of the vehicle, map spread out and his finger tracing over different options as Glenn and Hershel faced off in opposite directions, keeping watch for anything unexpected.

"Here's Hershel's farm," Rick said as he circled the spot on the map with a red pen. "Here's where we are now." Another swirl of ink on the map. Then he stood, seemingly at a loss, and Merle stabbed at the map with his knife-ended stump.

"There's the prison I mentioned before." He held the tip of his knife against the place on the map and Rick stepped forward to circle it. It was situated right in the middle and to the west of where they were stuck and just looking at it gave Merle a bad feeling in his head. "It's full of walkers. We can clear it, but the Governor knows about it. My gut says it won't be safe. Not for long."

Rick conceded the point with a quick nod and then clenched his jaw, thinking hard. "Then, we keep looking. There's got to be something out there, somewhere safe."

"How long we keep on lookin'?" Daryl asked, making them all focus on the job ahead, of endless running and ceaseless fear.

"As long as it takes," Rick answered, doubts evident in his voice but they all chose to ignore it. "We'll find something, another farm or…"

"There's a Juvenile Detention Centre roun' here someplace," Merle volunteered, and they all looked at him in surprise. "What ya'll lookin' at me like that for? Like it's any fuckin' secret I done time." He can't hold back the hard stare of dislike he aims at Rick, feeling more exposed than he has since he rejoined this group. They'd made their own assumptions about him, he knew, and he was damned if he'd believe they'd ever thought him too good to not have stepped his hairy big toe in just about every prison facility in the state. He felt low, suddenly. Dirty, worthless and that old well of self-hate and dissatisfaction gave a hearty surge inside him. Bad temper rose and he knew with a certainty that if he stayed amongst them, trying to play nice, he was going to say something he'd regret. Do something that would have their guns back in his face and possibly cuffs around his one remaining hand. In order to save himself the hassle, he turned his back and started back to the car. "Let me know what the decision is, Brother. I'm gonna go keep an eye on the girls."

Daryl's eyes narrowed as he watched Merle stomp off. He'd recognised that look in his brother's eyes—it was the one that always came before he'd slip a pill, or load up his needle before sticking it into a vein. It was the face of a brother who was losing his shit and Daryl knew it wasn't the side of his brother he wanted looking out for Carol and her daughter. For all he knew Merle had a new stash hidden in that car, along with all the other useful shit he'd gathered that had now come in handy for the rest of the group.

"We should find somewhere not too close to the populated areas, isolated like the farm is still gonna work out best and give us more chance to run if we gotta. Just need better watch than last time. Need somewhere I can hunt. We'll follow when you head out." Without any warning, Daryl spun on his heel and jogged after Merle, stopping and then following slower when he saw Merle head past Glenn and then further past the car they were travelling in. He caught Carol's concerned gaze as he started jogging again, catching up Merle before he got too far away.

Daryl snatched at Merle's shirt and whipped him around.

"Thought you was headin' back to the car. Last I looked, Carol and Sophia hadn' taken off out this way."

Merle turned on him, his eyes flashing with fury and a pain Daryl had always witnessed but had been thrashed if he'd ever attempted to make conversation about it.

"This ain't gonna work. I can't stay around these people, makin' nice like I'm some kinda stand up citizen. That cop's just waitin' for his chance to finish me off. One fuckin' hand weren't good enough for 'im, he wants the other one, too."

"When you gonna stop quittin' out on me?" Daryl stood his ground, despite the glare Merle directed his way. "Where the fuck you gonna run to, anyway? There ain't nowhere left out there, especially on your own. Don't be askin' me to come with you just 'cause you can't handle a bit of scrutiny."

"You don' know shit, boy," Merle spat, getting angrier and angrier the longer he stayed still. "You've always been the good one—Daryl never done time, Daryl never done drugs, Daryl never stuck it between a woman's legs…why, brother, you're crystal in this environment. You got all them chasin' after you like they is hooked on your ass. That why you'd leave me to wander on my own? You somebody now?"

He doesn't know where it's coming from, but just as Merle's anger escalates, Daryl feels a calmness descend on him and he mellows in the face of his brother's insults. In the face of Merle's attacks. Suddenly he can see it for what it is, Merle's fears that he's never been anybody—never been worth a thing in this life and that not one other human being will see him as anything but a waste of air before he dies.

"That girl thinks your somebody," Daryl points out, his voice gruff but quiet and respectful. "That kid owes you her life and I know Carol thinks you're her goddam hero, so don't go losin' your shit on them now. So what if they all know you did time in juvie? Who you think in this group _don't _have secrets?"

On closer look, Merle was shaking. Daryl couldn't remember a time when Merle wasn't high or waiting to _get _high, but now he recognised that it must have been weeks since he'd had anything to take the edge off.

"How long?" He watched as Merle gave in to the weakness of addiction and collapsed into a crouch, his hand clutching at his head, his fingers whitened from the grip.

"Governor allowed 'em to give me somethin' for the pain when I was first taken to Woodbury, but since then? Must be a month. Maybe a bit longer."

Daryl dropped to his haunches beside his brother, his forearms resting on his thighs as he held his hands together, preventing him from reaching out to Merle and having his brother strike out and sit him on his ass. "You keep thinkin' of that girl and what she's been through. You can't be gettin' high right now. You'll put us all at risk, but her…she's countin' on you. You can do this, bro. Everyone'll help. All you gotta do is ask."

Merle's head flew up and his eyes, red and raw with impotent fury and pain, pinned Daryl to the spot. "I ain't never asked no one for nothin'," he growled. "No reason to start up now."

"Ain't never been the dead up an' walkin' around, neither," Daryl countered, a slight grin quirking the corners of his mouth. "First time for all sorts of shit. Like you becomin' a fucking hero as well as a defacto daddy."

Merle snorts then pushes himself unsteadily to his feet, waiting as Daryl did the same and they both looked around them, making sure none of the dead had snuck up behind them while they'd been preoccupied with out of character deep and meaningfuls. Instead, they found Shane jogging up, coming to a stop with a slap to Merle's back.

"That was a great call, man. JDT's or even a Women's Prison. If we can find one they'd make a perfect place to set up—all fenced in, Infirmary, food supplies. Probably not much of an armoury but you never know. In the meantime, Rick thinks we'll look for a house or somethin' till we can find a map or some information on where these places might be situated. Turns out the map Rick found back there is as old as those hills you boys musta hailed from," he joked. Shane was looking excited and Daryl was relieved to see it. If they were all heading for emotional breakdowns he was running for the woods and maybe never coming back.

Merle was still looking pretty rough, choosing not to speak to Shane directly but answering him with a weak shrug.

"Yeah," Shane continued. "Shoulda thought about that Juvenile Detention Centre. Spent a time there myself when I was a kid. Turns out you shouldn't go stealin' your principal's car an' vandalisin' it." He winked at the Dixon brothers then left them to ponder that small bombshell as he returned to the Hyundai.

"That bastard was a mini crim an' he still became a cop," Merle laughed, tickled pink at the irony. "No wonder the world's goin' to shit."


	32. Chapter 32

**AN… **This is my final chapter in reserve. I'm feeling extremely nervous about not having a cushion, but I wanted to post this. I like this chapter. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy, and I'm hoping it will kick my butt back into this style of writing so I can start belting out the chapters again. I very guiltily admit that I've been distracted with writing my Marol story and a butt load of test knitting I've signed up for.

Also, I'm begging now…can anyone recommend any good graphic artists in this fandom? Please?

Part Thirty-Two

The truck was difficult to steer. Andrea wasn't used to driving old as God machinery. When she hadn't taken the subway to work, she'd been able to relax in her silver Honda Accord, setting up cruise control so she never ended up with cops like Shane Walsh breathing down her neck. She'd always been a good girl—she'd been a lawyer, for Christ's sake. It was a requirement. But when she'd _really _had Shane Walsh breathing down her neck, it hadn't been anywhere near as unpleasant as she'd thought it would be. The pity was that it had only happened once.

"I think I'm building up my pecs and turning into a redneck just by trying to steer this piece of shit," she said, looking sideways at her passenger.

Patricia laughed and looked more carefree than a formerly sheltered woman now on the run for her life should be. "You want me to give it a try?" she offered, and Andrea wondered if she might, but something made her hesitate.

"You know how to drive stick?"

Patricia's eyes glazed over and Andrea's eyes twinkled as her dirty mind took her to places that sharply resembled Shane in that Hyundai and his bulging crotch her fingers itched to cup again.

"I'd love to learn," Patricia confided with a girlish giggle defying her age. "There's a reason Otis an' I never had kids of our own."

"Patricia!" Andrea squealed, pretending to be scandalised. "So, whose stick have you got your eye on?"

She looked sad for a moment, before perking up considerably and sliding up to sit straighter in her chair. "Well, the pickings might be slim, but at least they're handsome," she admitted. "I might have made a play for Hershel if his daughter's didn't already look up to me as their substitute mama. Shane has one hell of a body to commend him, but I have a feeling you might have your eye on that," she teased, winking at Andrea before continuing. "Glenn is obviously taken and just a bit young anyway. I'd say Rick was taken, too, but Lori looks like she's a bit confused so you might have some competition for Shane there. Daryl seems a bit scared of any shadow that might be woman-shaped, though I think if I tried anything with him Carol might claw my eyes out, so…that leaves Merle."

"I think Merle might be hiding an impressive stick behind all that tortured pain, and racist, sexist bravado," Andrea agreed, a filthy smirk on her lips. "Not to mention, he saved that little girl's life. He may have been a real dick when we knew him before, but now…definitely worth considering."

Patricia was nodding, a faraway look on her face. "As for driving, I never learned, sorry. Maybe you should ask Glenn and Maggie to take over and you go take a break with Shane."

Andrea looked sideways again, deciding that Patricia was quite the little matchmaker. It was always the shy, quiet ones, she realised. First Carol shocking her with talk about vibrators at the quarry, and now the newly widowed Patricia.

"That's not a bad idea," Andrea decided. "You'll have to come with us, though. I wouldn't leave you in here with Maggie and Glenn. You'd be scandalised."

They'd stopped not long after, parking behind Rick as one by one they ground to a halt. Soon enough Shane was at the window, telling them the change in plans.

Andrea turned off the truck and stretched out her neck and arms. "Let's go find out what the new plan is, and convince Glenn to take over this beast of a truck before my shoulders give out."

The two climbed out of the truck and gathered with the men around a folded out map that Rick was trying to read. Merle appeared behind them just as Rick was circling the farm and where they were currently on the map. Andrea dug her elbow into Patricia's ribs, raising her eyebrows and licking her lips suggestively. The other woman giggled and hid behind Andrea, completely ignoring the Dixon's. Merle made his point and then stomped away, Andrea looking after him thoughtfully. If she didn't know any better she'd think he was upset at admitting he'd been a juvenile delinquent. He was a grown man of at least fifty and he was faltering at admitting what he was like in his youth? She shook her head with a grin. She was positive he'd done worse since then.

The discussion was settling down now that a decision had been made and Andrea put her hand on Glenn's arm as he wandered back toward Shane's car.

"Hey, you mind if we swap? If I have to wrestle with that truck much longer I'm going to end up looking like one of those women body builders with no boobs but muscles on their muscles."

Glenn blushed around a bashful grin. "Sure thing. Patricia going with you or staying with us?"

"She's coming with me. I think you two might give her too much of an education." Andrea laughed as Glenn blushed even harder.

Shane's eyes widened as Andrea and Patricia swapped out with Glenn and Maggie, but Andrea didn't miss his pleased grin. Without a word they settled in, and Andrea lost herself in thoughts as they rumbled along back the way they'd came, looking for anything welcoming enough to be their home for the night. Looking for dirt roads off the main ones that might indicate an isolated place the walkers might not have found yet. They passed so few of the walking dead as they coasted along the highway that it was easy to be fooled into thinking they were safe—until another mass of animated corpses appeared from the woods and lumbered after them, their accumulated moans quickly outrun by the caravan, but not forgotten.

Andrea felt overwhelmed by it all, feeling weary and bone tired now that she didn't have to stay focused on the road. She was dirty, exhausted, hungry and getting cold as the day started to wear away. "God, is there even anywhere left to go?"

Shane looked in the rear view mirror at a sleeping Patricia before reaching over and catching up Andrea's hand in his. She gifted him a grateful smile before squeezing his hand.

"There's somewhere," he said and it refuelled her flagging hopes. "Don't know where, but it's out there. We'll find it. You just wait and see." Then he lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against her fingers before resting their clasped hands on his thigh.

Encouraged and feeling a welcome sensation of tingles, Andrea closed her eyes and allowed herself to sleep.

* * *

He stumbled on a branch and almost fell, prevented only by the arm that slammed against him as he tipped forward, jerking him back to his feet. Then, as he righted himself, he looked up and saw the proximity of the two mutilated walkers on chains and almost landed on his ass in the opposite direction.

"Normally I'm not one to go around telling people their business, but shit, lady, these dudes are some scary shit. You sure you want them along?" T-Dog stared at her, still stunned even after a day and a half that his Angel of Mercy was a black beauty with an awesome sword and some seriously screwed up issues with her pet walkers.

"They protect us." She walked on.

He ran wide to get around them, gaining his position at her side once again. They walked for several minutes before T-Dog darted another wary look over his shoulder and shuddered. It had become his nervous habit ever since she'd peeled him off the forest floor, kicking the ugly severed head with its snapping teeth off his body before it bit him and then shoved the corpse to the side.

"Yeah, how is that again? You know, just so I'm clear on it." He couldn't tear his eyes off them, morbidly curious even though his fingers itched to grab her sword and slice off their heads.

"They keep other biters away," she explained shortly, and T-Dog's nerves ratcheted up another step higher.

"You sure don't talk much, do you?" He kept pace with her, even though he still hadn't physically recovered from his headlong sprint through the woods after leaving Hershel's farm, despite the unsettled rest they'd had around a small campfire the previous night. He'd already had to slay at least twenty walkers to make it this far in these godforsaken woods. Last thing he wanted was to stay outside, exposed to anything that could stumble around a tree.

"No."

T-Dog couldn't hold in the burst of hilarity. Shit, she'd saved his life and she was the hottest incarnation of a superhero he'd ever seen—hotter than cat woman, even—but shit she was as closed as a steel trap and it made him nervous.

"So, you got a group? You taking me to some people so they can cut my balls off and feed them to me?" He should really try to just shut his fool mouth but he was pretty certain he was close to losing it completely, constantly skipping an extra step into his stride to keep away from her damned freaky pets.

"As tempting as that thought is, no."

"No friends, then? None? Just you and your toothless buddies back there to keep you company?"

She stopped, her pets sensing the implied command to halt. T-Dog was still amazed they weren't straining at the chains, pushing forward to latch onto warm flesh when there was plenty of give and space for them to do so. They were like faithful dogs, their lack of teeth seemingly eradicating their need to feed. It fascinated the shit out of him while at the same time making him nearly pee his pants.

"I find it safer to not have friends. No one relies on you." Her face is emotionless, a mask carefully remaining neutral, and despite all her efforts to keep him at a distance, Theodore Douglas grinned wide.

"No problem. You got me now, and my friends, if we ever find them."

She stared at him wide-eyed, and he could see her thoughts were deep and conflicting, but before she shared another word—and he wasn't finding any surprise there—she was walking again, tugging on the chain so that her two pets almost stepped on his toes before he jerked away and jogged a step or two to catch up.

"You heading anywhere in particular?" He could see it was pissing her off that he kept trying to engage her in conversation, but he found he just couldn't help himself. He never realised he was such a chatty Cathy before, but now that he thought of how his silence with the loss of Dale had almost crushed him, it was now more than obvious. It was just his luck that out of all the possible angel's out there, his saving grace had to be one that would prefer to walk around half-mute.

"No."

Figured. Wasn't like there were many places left to go these days anyway.

"So, we're just wandering around?"

She stopped again, peering at him with an expression he couldn't decide was amusement or loathing. Her lips twitched despite themselves and a gap-toothed grin nearly split T's face.

"Yes."

And she was walking again, dragging those walkers behind her, T-Dog wondering if he was still really in the world or if maybe he was now living in an alternate universe compiled of his ideal imaginings of Heaven.

As he kept a steady pace beside her, careful to not have his big feet trip on any more sticks or clumps of dead leaves, he marvelled that he'd never had so much fun just wandering around before. At least the view was good.

* * *

_Three Weeks Later_

Everywhere they stopped, they encountered walkers. Daryl was just about ready to have a tantrum, say to hell with it all and head off on his own to slaughter a few dozen of the dead. Make somewhere safe for them to camp for the night because he was getting seriously sick of them not finding anywhere they could rest up and breathe. He needed to rest, they all needed to rest, but most of all he wanted Carol and Sophia to sleep somewhere other than the damp ground around a barely flickering campfire before she caught a chill. They all needed to get inside someplace, to be able to close themselves off from the constant threat of cold, hunger and walkers. They needed someplace to _forget, _just for a moment. Was one night too much to ask?

Merle was getting on his last nerve. Everyone was living on top of each other, in each other's business, and the familiarity of it was revolting to Daryl. His brother and he had always been close but this was taking it to a whole new, unacceptable level. They lacked the freedom to bathe—though he wouldn't be too shocked if they'd have said he smelled the worst of them all—the freedom to touch, the freedom to just fucking talk without every other asshole in camp knowing exactly what was going on.

Everyone knew when Lori finally apologised to Carol. It had taken nearly a week before the brunette had carefully approached her as she'd been prepared the evening meal—slim pickings though it was—and the whole camp was witness to Carol's watery smile of forgiveness as the two women collapsed in each other's arms and wept. Daryl had rolled his eyes, tossed Merle his gun and jerked his head toward the woods, the two men stomping off to find some less emotional Dr. Phil bullshit amongst the trees.

Everyone knew when Hershel had had one too many beans and farted a fucking symphony as he slept by the fire, a shaking Beth and Patricia at his side—shaking because they tried to keep hysterical laughter at a minimum so the old man didn't wake up and start spouting another unwanted sermon.

Everyone knew when Maggie and Glenn couldn't keep it in their pants any longer and they'd apparently made bets on each other to see who could moan the loudest, shout the longest and shock the fucking shit right out of the rest of the poor, miserable camp. Not that they were the only ones—Rick and Lori hadn't stopped being friendly, as much as Daryl wished to hell they would. Then there was Shane getting all close and personal with Andrea not too far inside the tree line around camp that everyone knew exactly how much of a screamer the blonde actually was and that Shane sweated like a pig when he rutted around like one.

The thing that everyone knew the most, however, was the thing that made Daryl want to skin and gut his own brother. Merle was making a play for Carol, and he was doing it right under Daryl—and the rest of the group's—nose. At first he'd thought Merle's flirtatious advances toward Carol was just Merle being his usual asshole self. Then he noticed that whenever he went looking for Carol, he almost always found his brother, hanging on every word she or Sophia said.

They'd spent the morning on the road…again. Daryl was fed up with it. Sick of being in the same car with Merle, sick of not feeling Carol's hands around his waist while they rode into the wind and let it carry their cares off to another day. He was sick of not being able to talk to her, to warn her what Merle was up to because her laughter and friendliness with his brother was grating on his last nerve. All he wanted was the reassurance of a kiss, but with no privacy in the last weeks, they'd barely even managed to share a fleeting, longing look before Merle's ugly ass-crack of a face was forcing its way in between them once again.

They'd found maps—hundreds of the fuckers, but having a map didn't mean a damn thing when they were constantly finding their way blocked with either car pile-ups or a wall of walkers. Daryl slammed his open hand into the steering wheel of Merle's car as they came to another stop, another way blocked, ramming the gear into park as he practically threw himself from the car, foaming at the mouth. A two minute consultation with Rick and Shane and Daryl was pulling out from the line of cars to take the lead, heading back along the highway at speeds faster than they were used to, not giving a flying fuck if any of the others could keep up.

He'd seen a road heading off one of the turns they'd taken earlier, and his gut was telling him to go down that road and find a house before he took his bow and planted an arrow in someone's head—someone who wasn't yet dead. He wasn't picky. He was angry as shit and someone needed to pay for it. Sophia eeped in the back seat and with a force of will, he slowed down, resting his elbow along the window edge and gnawed at the frayed skin around his thumb, enjoying the distraction the sting gave him.

When he found the dirt road, Daryl did something he never did. He prayed that they'd find a house, some shelter, even a barn for all he cared, so they could get out of the wind, and find a door with a lock on it so he could…do something. He didn't know what he wanted to do—talk, scream, kick, kiss, fuck…he was in the dark about it. He just knew he needed time to breathe.

The gate reared up like a shock, Daryl having to slam the brakes on before he crashed into it.

Merle threw open his door to get out and open the gate, chuckling as he jogged away. "Shit, bro," he yelled over his shoulder. "Maybe you should just go rub one off. You sure actin' like you're losin' your damn mind."

The tips of his ears burned and Daryl growled. Normally he'd tell Merle to go fuck himself up the ass, but he settled on a furious glare as he planted his foot down hard on the accelerator and they jolted through the gate. He stopped far enough away to make Merle break into a sweat to make it back to the car, and by then the others had caught up.

It was foolish driving onto someone's property like this. The place could be swarming with walkers, or it could be where another group of survivors were holed up, but Daryl understood he wasn't thinking straight. Besides, he'd always relied on his gut, and his gut was telling him to find this house and lay some of his demons to rest.

They arrived in the front yard, surrounding fields empty yet overgrown. Daryl left the car, took his crossbow and without waiting for anyone else, started to patrol the outside grounds for any sign of a walker threat. Merle joined him and together they took a short time before declaring the outside safe. There was a collective sigh of relief, and with that first hurdle out of the way, Daryl chanced a glance at Carol, his heart picking up a new, happier rhythm as she smiled at him. The sun made her face shine and he knew his fit had been the right thing.

Rick, Shane and Glenn appeared moments later, announcing the house was safe though a little messed up. They all set to work, preparing what they needed before night started to fall, hope reasserting its dwindling presence in the perk of their steps.

Daryl nearly bounded up onto the front porch, so relieved to finally be somewhere he could escape from all these other people—where he could get away from the leering advances of his brother toward the woman Daryl considered his. He did his own sweep through the house, checking room by room, under beds and in cupboards until he was satisfied, and when he reached the last room, a small sunroom that had a door that locked, he almost wept.

Checking the view from the windows and seeing how vast the surrounds of this place was, he heard the door behind him click shut and the lock switch into place. He turned slowly, anticipation and need burning furiously through his veins. If it was Rick or Shane, he was shooting them in the ass with an arrow and he wouldn't weep about the waste. But as he turned, his shoulders flexed and tensed waiting for disappointment, he suddenly fell back a step as Carol threw herself into his arms.

"Thank God for you, Daryl Dixon. Just thank God."

Her lips dived at his and he almost choked for breath. She pulled back, hands shaking as they tangled in his hair, her eyes alive and glittering with amusement, and then her lips were on his again, sliding wet and hot over his. Demanding a taste. Demanding a response. He gave her one—all the pent up frustration from the last weeks built up and exploded from him, passion a blinding red haze as his hands found her body, reaching under clothing and cupping her breasts, his thumb rubbing agonising strokes over her nipples as he felt singed to the core, his body shaking with how new it all felt. How brave he was to touch her without thinking about every little move first. He was about to do more, press his own hardness into the apex of her thighs, strip her shirt off over her head, when something thudding against the door shocked them apart.

"The fuck you want?" Daryl yelled, fury whipping his patience right out from under him.

"Get your ass out here and help me hunt, you little shit." Merle's rough tones matched Daryl's fury and he could imagine his brother staring bolts of fire at the door between them, jealousy perhaps brimming over between the both of them.

Carol hugged him quickly, then stepped to the door and flung it open. "You should come see the view, Merle. It's spectacular." She swept past him and as she returned to the others, her step lighter than it had been for weeks, the brother's shared a silent, understanding glare.

Apparently it was game on.


	33. Chapter 33

AN will be at the end of this one. Brace yourselves, kiddies. ImOrca, this one is for you! Well, the last part at least.

Part Thirty-Three

Shane entered the kitchen, his heavy boots clomping on the wooden floor and his cap filled with fresh eggs. He laughed as Carol's jaw almost hit the floor. "There's chickens still in the hen house out back. Damn things survived on automatic feeders. Looks like walkers have never even made it up to this place."

"We should find a way to take 'em with us when we go," Carol suggested, suddenly excited. She wiped her hands on a teatowel and she passed Shane an apple. "I can't believe we have fruit trees. Fruit. God, my insides are rejoicing from having something decent to eat." Taking her own huge, juicy bite, she giggled as some of the juice trickled from her mouth.

Shane's grin was infectious. It filtered through the house until everyone picked up, good moods and hopes restored. Sophia ran in then, skidding to a stop as she watched her mother smiling and happy. The little girl grinned suddenly, throwing her arms around her mother's middle and squeezing tightly.

"I love you, Mom."

Carol choked down her bite of apple and hugged her daughter, reciprocating the words, and Shane felt his chest tighten. This was one of those moments he knew he was never going to have the chance to experience, not unless the world changed drastically over the next few years. Maybe he was thinking too negatively. As the rest of the group meandered into the dining area, preparing to consume their first meal of the day, Shane decided it would be best to just let it go. He couldn't predict his own future back before the world went to shit, he was a crazy asshole if he thought he had a better chance of doing it now.

Carol had already set the table and he admired her penchant for tradition as everyone playfully dodged around each other until they all located a seat and started tucking into the spread Carol had provided with the provisions they'd managed to bring with them combined with Daryl and Merle's hunting contributions. They all looked happy—as happy as they could be while still retaining that nervousness that meant they could pack up and leave at a moment's notice.

The Dixon boys sat beside each other and Shane chuckled as he observed the glares each periodically aimed at the other. Everyone knew that they seemed to think they were competing for the same prize, and as much as Merle was proving to not be the total asshole he'd been in Atlanta, everyone knew he didn't stand a chance in a race for Carol's affections. Carol herself seemed oblivious to the rivalry, to Merle's interest in her and Shane knew it was just a matter of time before the shit hit the fan big time and the brothers came to a violent and bloody resolution.

Patricia carried a steaming platter of scrambled eggs to the table and Shane whooped with pleasure. Already his find had come to good use and he scooped up a generous helping before anyone else had even registered what it was.

"Shit, am I seein' things right or is them real eggs?" Merle asked.

"Not only are they real, man, but there's more where they came from," Shane confirmed, spurring on the good spirits of the morning.

Rick jumped in, sharing the eggs out as plate after plate seemed to find its way in front of him and before they knew it, the platter was empty. Of course, there was the usual fried squirrel as well as something that looked like steamed spinach—probably plucked from the garden out back—and Shane moaned his way through breakfast.

"The piece de resistance," Carol announced, carefully carrying two big pitchers of freshly squeezed orange juice—more bounty from the fruit trees they'd discovered out back—struggling to place them in the middle of the table. In doing so she had to lean across the back of Carl's chair and Shane noticed how riveted both sets of Dixon blues fixated on how far she was suddenly filling out her top.

Merle licked his lips and leaned in a little further to get an up close and personal with her enhanced features. "Hey sassy, when did you have time to slip out for a boob job?"

Carol jerked up, her hands covering her top half in reflex, a look of shock on her face.

"W-what?"

"Lean over any further, darlin' and I'll be eatin' your tits for breakfast instead of these eggs," Merle expanded, his fork pointing directly at them while Daryl looked ready to punch his brother's teeth in right there at the table. "They's bigger 'an when I first met back up with y'all. Not that I'm complainin', mind." And he licked his lips for good measure.

Shane was transfixed as Carol's face drained of colour. It wasn't like they hadn't all noticed. They'd noticed because they hadn't noticed her breasts before, so to have them suddenly swollen and filling out her shirts where once they hadn't, a thing like that was just criminal for a man to miss.

"I…I must be eatin' better," Carol nervously tried to reason, though Shane could tell by her expression she was confused and quite possibly emotionally wounded.

"Then why's the rest of ya skinnier than a rat with its flanks cut off?"

"Shut the hell up, Merle. It ain't none o' your concern. Eat your damn eggs, jackass." Daryl was on his feet, standing in front of a shell-shocked Carol in seconds. "Carol, just ignore him."

In front of them all, her expression turned to one of horror and Carol turned heel and fled from the room.

* * *

He found her in the sunroom, silent and shaking, her cheeks saturated with tears as she stared out the window at the woods beyond. It was instinct that told him something was very wrong, and not just his brother being a shitheel embarrassing her in front of the whole group.

"Merle's an ass. I'll break his nose for you if you want."

He'd hoped she'd laugh, but when she fell to her knees and started crying harder than he'd ever seen a woman cry, Daryl knew he was in over his head. Big tits, while horribly embarrassing for a guy like him to discuss in front of a crowd, should never make a woman cry like her last friend had just been murdered. At least, he didn't think so, though with his experience, he couldn't be sure.

"Daryl?"

He was beside her immediately, helping her stand up off the floor, letting his hands rest on her hips as her own cradled her face as she tried to stop her sobs. Her face was ravaged with grief. His gut clenched as he realised he was completely out of his depth and he'd rather run away than face whatever tragedy she was about to drop on his head.

"Yeah?"

She got control finally and looked him dead in the eye. "I…I think my breasts are swollen."

His brow quirked. "I think that might be an understatement." And he grinned, enjoying a brief detour to look at how much her curves pushed against the top that two weeks ago had been much looser.

"Can…this is going to sound so stupid but…can you touch one?"

His eyes shot to hers in shock. Despite everything that had happened between them, this seemed a little forward, but instead of seeing desire for him in her face, he saw fear.

"I'm confused," he admitted, his voice husky.

Her tears started to fall again. "I haven't been sick," she started, shaking her head even as her face seemed to crumple against another onslaught of grief. "Just…squeeze my nipple. Please?" She took up his hand and placed it on her breast and Daryl tried hard not to react like the red-blooded man he was, to keep his body under his own control, but it was hopeless when he felt the warm weight of her against his palm, felt her nipple engorge as his thumb rubbed over the cloth still covering it. He hissed out a strangled breath and then with thumb and forefinger, squeezed her nipple gently, wishing for all the world that he could rip her shirt off and take her into his mouth.

"Ouch." She flinched back from him and his hand dropped away from her like a stone. "How long has it been since we left the farm?"

"Tell me what's going on." His body was rigid now, recognising that there was a jump just up ahead and he was going to be expected to leap off without any clue to where he'd land. The sensation didn't sit right with him, made him twitchy and nervous and ready to bolt.

"How long?" she asked again, determined, blocking out his own question and he was starting to get annoyed.

"Dunno. Maybe a month almost? Tell me the fuck's goin' on or I'm leavin'."

"Oh." Her legs gave out and she fell to the floor again, her face buried in her hands and she was breathing deeply in through her nose and then out through her mouth.

He crouched before her, his work-worn hand moulding to the curve of her chin as he fought against jerking her to face him.

"Tell me," he demanded, but by this point Daryl had a sick feeling he already knew.

"I think… Actually, I'm…pretty sure…I'm pregnant."

And the bottom just fell the fuck out of his world.

* * *

She hadn't had time to even process before he'd been there, demanding she tell him something she just knew was going to send him running. And then, with no surprise, she watched his back as he bolted out the door, finding herself not even caring as something inside her broke clean away.

Lori and Andrea stood in the doorway, then, and the fight to control her emotions was lost, her face crumbling once again into misery and tears.

"You don't get morning sickness?" Lori asked, her tone a mixture of disbelief and envy.

"It happens," Carol confirmed. With Sophia she'd been so grateful to not succumb to the illness the majority of women experienced with their first symptoms of pregnancy. With Ed's constant demands she'd had no time to be sick and she'd known without even thinking the kind of punishment she'd have suffered if she'd slacked off her homemaker duties, claiming to be ill. It had kept her condition largely a secret, too, and so Ed had been unable to argue when she'd confirmed to him, at eighteen weeks, that they were going to have a baby. She'd only just started to show enough that she couldn't hide it from him anymore, even with his complete lack of interest in her body. They'd been married for twelve years when the miracle had occurred, and before the drunken night of conception, Ed hadn't touched her for six of them. It had been so long since he'd touched her sexually that she'd half been afraid she liked it, until once again he made her feel dirty, used, nothing more than a hole in the wall that he didn't have to pay for. Sophia had been a gift, but every year or three after when he got so plastered he forgot he hated her, entering her room and mounting her like a slimy pig, she refused to accept any more of his gifts, and the two other times he'd managed to impregnate her, she'd taken care of it before he was any the wiser.

She was in her forties now, pregnant to a redneck who had taken her in a fit of emotional fury at the world on the side of a road after they'd been almost decimated by a horde of savagely hungry walkers, and still it was a miracle. A gift. But one that came with a terrible price, if she'd read this new world right at all.

Through blurry eyes, Carol watched her two closest friends enter the room and dissolved right in front of them. Fear was the driving force, but guilt was mixed in there as well—guilt that she was pregnant when Lori so recently had lost her baby, guilt at the pressure this would put on her fledgling relationship with Daryl, guilt that she was now going to put them all in so much danger, guilt that she might not even be able to bring this baby into a world where it could only survive a matter of days, and she felt guilt that she'd fallen pregnant when she'd thought Sophia was gone. It made no sense, that last one, but Carol couldn't get it out of her head how if Sophia had never been saved by Merle, right now she'd probably be ecstatic, only heartbroken because the reality of a baby with her was something Daryl would need a lot of time and healing before he could truly accept.

Andrea draped her arms around her and just hugged her, and Carol cried into her friend's shoulder, feeling so much worse now because she had no right. Lori had lost her baby. While it was true the younger woman had been motivated by fear to rid herself of the pregnancy, Carol was mature enough to know that pregnancy hormones were a difficult thing to manage with a levelness even before the world turned everything on its head. Now, when they couldn't be sure of their next meal, if they'd have somewhere safe to sleep, Lori's concerns had taken on a whole new meaning. Carol had understood all those weeks ago why Lori hadn't felt up to the challenge of raising a new life in a world that was largely dead, but now that she was facing it herself, the reality was all the more stark, all the more horrifying. And if she had to do it without Daryl…

She would. She'd raised Sophia without Ed's input for most of the girl's life, now didn't have to be any different. She and Daryl weren't a couple—not yet, and maybe never if the look on his face as he'd fled from her was anything to go by. They'd spent one moment together, spurred on by the sheer relief to be alive and safe, and she couldn't hate Daryl for it, would never judge him or hate him for not being able to face this kind of consequence. She couldn't deny how much it hurt, though.

"Do we need to go find you a test?" Lori asked softly, showing nothing but concern as she rubbed Carol's back. She was on her knees beside her now, a gentle smile aimed her way and her arm going around her to join in the impromptu hugging session with Andrea.

Carol laughed. "I don't think so. I either am or I'm not. We'll know for sure soon enough if my belly starts popping out. In the meantime, I think I need some more demure tops so Merle can keep his lecherous eyes in his head."

"Maybe I should sic Patricia onto him, get her to keep him busy," Andrea winked, and all three of them giggled.

"Now that would surely be a match made in Heaven," Lori deadpanned and they laughed again, releasing the tension that had stifled the room.

"So," started Andrea, calculating eyes switching from Lori's conspiratorial look to Carol's wary one. "When did you manage to fit in a wild moment with our resident redneck Jr?"

Carol blushed, not sure she should be revealing something so intimate that might have the women watching Daryl with a new understanding. As angry as he was, he might decide she was better off dead—or permanently alone.

She took a deep breath and resolved on telling them the truth. "It was the night we fled the farm. He was scared that I got bit or scratched and it kind of went crazy from there."

Andrea's face hardened and Lori sat back in surprise, but when the silence had become awkward, it was Andrea that voiced what both women had obviously concluded.

"Did he force you?"

Carol flinched. "I know what force feels like, Andrea. You can't force something when the other person is willing. It was rougher than I might have liked our first time to be, but I understand why it happened that way and we've made it right between us. God, that night, we were both terrified we'd lost each other. That we'd lost everyone." She grabbed a hand each of the women and squeezed, her worry obvious. "Don't judge him for this. It's no one's fault. It is what it is."

"We'll work it out." Lori nodded, her face filled with worry but determination. "We just have to find somewhere safe and everything will be fine."

Andrea exhaled as her butt hit the floor, getting comfy, then she grimaced as she addressed the elephant in the room. "What about Daryl? The way he ran out of here like his panties were on fire, I'm guessing he didn't take it well."

She was so utterly sick of tears and if she was in her right mind, she'd probably not be so apt to spill them every time some little thing upset her. "I got pregnant from basically a one night stand. That's enough to make any man run, let alone a man who doesn't have enough experience emotionally to handle something like this."

"It wouldn't help that you and he haven't had a chance to be alone since we left the farm, either," Lori agreed. "What with caring for Sophia and Merle hanging off you all over the place."

"What is with that?" burst out Carol, her expression twisting in confusion. "I can hardly go pee without him two steps away. I barely even know him," she complained miserably.

Andrea snorted a laugh. "Are you kidding? You must be Miss Clueless." She shared another amused glance with Lori and Carol slapped her arm.

"Hey, no jokes at my expense," she chastised. She already felt like the walls were closing in without her two friends having private conversations about her right in front of her. "If you know what his deal is then please lead me out of the dark."

"That man has taken it upon himself to be Sophia's new daddy and he's including you as part of the package." Lori smirked as she watched the look of horror blossom on Carol's face.

"Oh no."

* * *

He didn't even spare them a glance as he strode out of the house, crossbow across his back and a mean expression on his face. If anyone knew him at all they'd know to keep well away so it completely figured that the one who should know him best lifted his ass from the table, leaving his empty plate for someone else to clear up and trotted out after him.

"Fuck off, Merle," Daryl growled, feeling a surge of power rush through his body as that familiar need to do damage swept through him.

"How 'bout you fuck off, you little shit." Merle grabbed at his arm and swung him around, but Daryl used the momentum and clocked his brother across the chin.

"I was fucking off, you dipshit. That's what the whole leaving the house was about, or can't you understand basic body language?" Daryl was huffing with building rage, ignoring the splitting pain in his fist.

"Don't know what's got your panties all twisted up your ass but I think it's time you an' I had ourselves a little chat." Merle's lips were curled and it wasn't in a good way—not the way that indicated this whole thing would go down without someone ending up bloody.

"It ain't none o' your concern." He stared intently at his brother, willing him to just let it go, his tone and expression almost deadly.

"Now see, that's where you're dead wrong, little brother." Merle stepped closer, his body stiff, his face murderous. "Anythin' that affects that little girl has everythin' to do with me, so you better cut this shit out now. I ain't gonna stay patient with you butting your nose in for too much longer."

"Me buttin' my nose in? You really are a dumb shit, ain'tcha. You walk back into our group like you never left, crawlin' up everyone's ass as if you've got all the damn answers to every fuckin' problem of the universe. Well, I ain't takin' in by you, you hear? You want Carol, you're gonna have to fight for her an' even then you don' stand a chance. 'Specially not now."

"You jealous I got somethin' to contribute?" asked Merle, shooting a steely glare at Daryl as he rubbed his chin and Daryl knew that moment of impulse was just building up for repayment.

"You always had somethin' worth contributin', you was just too high to give a shit before," Daryl raged, feeling a switch get flipped in his head and years of impotent rage spilling through him like a virus taking him over. Red flashed behind his eyes and belatedly he knew it wasn't all aimed at Merle, that some of it was meant for himself. Guilt and rage and pain and fear so deep it rocked his meagre confidence in himself. He'd known who he was his whole life—maybe not worth a whole hell of a damn to most people but to Merle he'd been someone, at least, when he was around. He'd found himself in honing his natural skill with hunting and he hadn't needed much else to get by. Hadn't needed _anyone _else to get by, until he'd met Carol. Until the dead had risen and he'd worked out that trying to live through it alone was an impossibility.

While he stood immobile, letting anger and helplessness take him over, Merle bent double and with a guttural cry he charged, slamming into Daryl's gut with all the force of a raging bull. Daryl flew backward and his back smashed down onto the dusty ground with nearly spine snapping power. His crossbow dug into him and he could already feel the bruising flower along his spine and shoulders. Rational thought flew out of his head and he bucked up violently, disentangling Merle from around his middle so he could fling his crossbow aside and swing at his brother's head. Fists swinging, boots flying in kicks that met shins and thighs and soft bellies, Daryl was lost to the whir of the fight, focusing on little more than the pain in his heart as he took out his anger and frustration on his brother and belatedly realised as Merle's fist almost crushed his jaw and jarred his teeth that he was growling like an animal in pain.

His fists were smattered with blood from split skin as each connection with Merle's body took its pound of flesh. It wasn't until he felt the nick of the blade fastened to Merle's stump against his bicep that sense started to flood back into his brain and he stepped back, right as Shane and Rick jumped in to separate them.

He was panting violently, breathing an effort as he bent down painfully to pick up his crossbow, inspecting it for damage. Things were sturdier than a brick shithouse.

"She ain't never gonna be yours," Daryl said at last, his message deadly serious as he stared Merle down, satisfaction heavy in his heart that Merle was just as winded and wounded as he was. "You try an' touch her and you an' I are through."

Without a backward glance, Daryl left them behind and stormed off toward the woods.

**AN**…wow, a few things. That last scene is dedicated to ImOrca. You could have written it loads better, but I hope you appreciate the thought ;)

Secondly, I'm aware this new plot point might lose me some readers and I'm prepared for it—heartbroken but prepared. It was planned almost from the start with a weird need to portray a realistic pregnancy. Little secret…I have 6 kids of my own so I feel like I'm qualified… ;) ;)

Thirdly, the line about the boob job? Totally acknowledging my best buddy providing that one, Raizingkain2001.

Fourthy, please take the time to review. I am rather behind in replying, I know, but they do mean so very much to know you're reading.


	34. Chapter 34

AN… I must make a million apologies for this chapter being so long in the making. There's a fair bit going on here, so I hope that you all find something enjoyable in there. As usual, keen for your thoughts. Now, I am off to bed!

Part Thirty Four

"Hey." Sophia found Merle sitting in the dirt beneath a really old-looking tree in the front yard, blood drying on his face from a scrape on his cheekbone right below his eye. He looked battered, hurt, and a little bit dazed.

"Hey, yourself," he answered roughly after a minute, and Sophia took a seat on the grass close by him.

"Whatcha doin'?" She looked at him intently, her face drawn up with curiosity and concern and a snort of laughter erupted from him.

"Thinkin'."

She contemplated him then looked him dead in the eye. "You thinkin' about my mom?"

One stormy grey eye opened wide as he looked at her sideways and Merle grunted as he gave up and returned her stare. "Maybe."

"What you said at breakfast, you know that was kind of icky, right? I think it might have even been a bit inappropriate in front of Carl and me." Her stern chastisement immediately lost fervour as she burst into giggles and Merle struggled to hold back his own mirth.

"Yeah, sometimes I forget I'm meant to be watchin' my mouth. Your momma's rack was a bit distractin'."

"Merle!" Sophia giggled harder when Merle threw a wink in her direction.

"You can't blame a man for havin' eyes, kid. An' those babies was sittin' right in front of 'em an' almost on my damn plate. Where the hell they come from, anyway?"

Sophia stopped giggling and the air around them suddenly changed. She looked at him hard, like if she stopped, skittered her eyes away, he might vanish. "You're never gonna leave me, are you?"

Merle blinked, surprised at the hint of insecurity and fear that crept into Sophia's voice and he reached across and snatched up her hand. "You know better than that, kid, dontcha? You're mine now, no matter what."

She sighed in relief then threw herself into Merle's arms. "I love you, you know. Just like I love my mom. But…I think you have to forget about her boobs."

"What?" Merle reared back as far as the tree trunk would allow, unwilling to even contemplate a world where he had to ignore boobs, but he grinned to show he was okay with what Sophia said, giving her a quick cuff on the chin. "You may mean the world to me too, kid, but I ain't never gonna ignore titties when them things are damn near poppin' in my face."

"You gonna have Daryl beat you to a pulp every time you do it, too? 'Cause I think he might," she claimed with a maturity and insight that left him gobsmacked.

Merle stared thoughtfully in the direction of the woods where his brother had left earlier, wondering what the fuck was up with him.

"Yeah, that boy was bein' a bit protective. Wonder what all's up with that?"

Sophia picked up a stick and began drawing circles in the dirt near Merle's feet, avoiding his gaze and making it more than obvious that she knew something he didn't.

"Okay, Little Miss Avoidance. You got information that I don't, so let's hear it," he barked and Sophia actually jumped, dropping her stick in the dirt. His body was tense, muscles flexing and his eyes had turned cold, guarded, though she knew it wasn't aimed at her. Not really.

"I…I might have heard something."

Merle leaned forward, and her eyes shot open in alarm. "Spill, kid."

Sophia nodded slowly, but before she even opened her mouth, both her little hands sprung forward and clamped down hard on Merle's left one, squeezing his balled fist tightly until his fingers straightened out and his body relaxed. When he'd reached a semi state of calm, he nodded and Sophia took a deep breath in and shared.

"My mom…she was talking to Lori and Andrea and…I think she's having a baby."

Merle blinked stupidly, eyed the section of woods his fool ass brother had marched into, and growled.

"Daryl's the pappy?"

The rapid jerk of Sophia's head confirmed all his suspicions and Merle just slumped against the tree, defeated. No way was he going to step into the middle of that mess. "Well, I'll be damned."

* * *

Rick slouched against the porch railing taking watch, scanning the tree line completely before coming to rest on Merle and Sophia talking under an old Oak tree. He'd been worried all along that Merle would try something, and now that he had, he was just as confused and suspicious as ever. As much as they all had felt the tension rising between the brothers, some of them even amused at the silent battle for Carol's affections that Carol herself seemed entirely oblivious to, Rick would never have picked Daryl to be the recipient of Merle's temper when the older Dixon finally blew.

It didn't sit easy with him, but Rick had been waiting for Merle to attack himself or Glenn, wanting just one act of violence so he could kick Merle out of their group and be able to justify the move to the others. He couldn't help but be concerned how quickly Shane had chosen to be friendly with Merle—how quickly his friend seemed to appreciate what Merle had to offer the group. It galled him to admit the redneck made sense pretty much every time he opened his mouth, and that his contributions so far had been completely aimed at helping the group, showing a selfless generosity Rick would never have predicted. It was unlike Rick to hold a grudge against a man on such little evidence, and if he weighed it up, what Merle had done for the group, for Sophia, compared to the suffering Rick was partially responsible for inflicting on the bigger man, he had no right to feel as hostile as he did. He didn't know how to get beyond it, to let go of the distrust and start working with Merle instead of against him, but hopefully something soon would show him the way, because for now, he just felt lost.

The outside seemed quiet, peaceful, but Rick stayed on heightened alert, the memory of the Greene family farm never far from his mind. He couldn't let such a calamity happen again. They'd lost T-Dog and Jimmy, and Rick knew they'd been extremely lucky to not lose more. They'd been so foolish thinking themselves safe, but he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. Wasn't going to take his group's safety for granted ever again.

The front door creaked as Lori pushed it open, a glass of water in her hand. She handed it to Rick and he smiled his thanks, snagging her around the waist as he hauled her in close, kissing her on the cheek.

"Thank you."

She snaked an arm around him and slipped a finger through his pants belt loop, tucking her head against his chest and sighed deeply as his chin came to rest on her head.

"How are you feelin'?" Rick asked softly, snuggling her against him. She leaned back into his chest, her eyes misting slightly before she shrugged it off and smiled.

"I'm fine. Carol's fine—except for Daryl actin' like an ass," she said, her tone starting out pretty mellow and turning icy by the time she got to using Daryl's name.

"Daryl actin' like an ass, now there's somethin' unexpected," Rick joked, lifting a set of binoculars so he could peer out once again to sweep the tree line.

"He'd better get it together pretty quick. We don't have time for him to fall apart over somethin' like this."

Rick nodded thoughtfully, lowering the binoculars when the coast came up clear. "Not sure Daryl's ever had to deal with anythin' quite like this before, but he's stepped up about everythin' else so far. Give him a chance," Rick suggested, his voice soft in an effort to dull Lori's chilled reaction to the redneck.

She exhaled a sharp breath, staring intently at Sophia and Merle as the two talked under the tree. "If he hurts Carol or doesn't take responsibility for that baby, I'll skin 'im alive."

"I think the way he pummelled Merle earlier shows he's not goin' to disappear. He just needs time to sort things out. It'll be fine, you wait an' see."

Lori nodded, seemingly content to accept that for now and probably not wanting to stir things up for Carol before Daryl gave her a real reason to.

"Are you gonna be okay with it? Carol bein' pregnant?"

Lori's eyes flashed and then narrowed. "I'm fine, Rick. Just trust me on that."

He had no choice, not quite believing his wife but not being able to do anything about it if she wasn't wanting to be honest with him.

"Okay, I won't push you, but if things get to be too much, you be sure to come and let me know. You don't have to suffer in silence, Lori. I know a baby in this world isn't somethin' you wanted, but I know losin' the little one can't have been easy on you, either. We have been down this track before."

Lori nodded, a watery smile on her lips. She didn't say a word, but she did tuck herself in closer to his body and seek the warmth of his embrace. He wasn't going to push for any more than that.

* * *

Shane was reeling. He'd barely accepted the loss of one potential child from their midst when another was announced so abruptly it took the wind completely out of his sails. As much as he was coming to appreciate Merle's presence within the group, the way he'd sparked the situation that morning had Shane's temper ready to burst its boundaries. In his brain he knew that Merle was just being Merle, and on any other day—and if Daryl Dixon was less likely to plant his fist in his face for doing it—Shane might have made a comment about Carol's increasing assets, too. It didn't take away the fact that they were now weighed down…again…with a pregnant woman, and this time a woman in her forties. He was choosing to be angry about that—that they'd take that kind of risk. Carol was old enough to know better and Daryl was a survivor to the extreme and _definitely _should have known better, though he suspected the redneck's experience with women might have been several hundred per cent less than his brother's. He refused to dwell on the fear that something like this could get Carol killed.

He was avoiding the hole in his soul that this news dredged up. His own loss was pushed to the far corners of his brain and that was where he wanted it to stay. Where he _needed _for it to stay. He needed to keep his head clear, to keep on top of the situation because being on another farm made him feel nervous. Made his skin itch to move, to keep active, to keep searching for somewhere safer, _especially _now they knew Carol's bombshell.

"Are you avoidin' me?"

Carol moved slowly into his line of sight, her face pale and her body stiff with dread. He could see she was suddenly afraid of him and it stretched his hard fought for control to the limits.

"Might be that I am," he said huffily, then straight away was ashamed at the way she blanched at his thoughtless confirmation, hesitating before quickly turning away.

He was on his feet the next second, reaching out to grab her arm and she jerked suddenly to a stop.

"Wait up." He was relieved when she turned back to him, but with downcast eyes. "I'm sorry for being an asshole." The arm he held trembled and Shane finally noticed that Carol was shaking head to toe. She sniffled pathetically and without another word, he enveloped her in his arms and held her tight as she burst into tears. Tears stung his own eyes as he buried his face in her shoulder.

"I'm sorry." Carol pulled away, using her sleeve to wipe her face.

Shane laughed, though even Carol could tell it was bitter. "Shit, look at us. We must be the two most pathetic members of the group right now. Mopin' around like someone's died."

There was no avoiding the startled horror that flashed across Carol's face at his words, and Shane felt like kicking himself. He couldn't rip away the image of Carol dying slowly over seven or eight months, her pregnancy taxing her more mature body and the walkers draining her will to fight. How were they going to stay on the road, searching for a place when she was struggling within her own body? He hadn't thought these things with Lori, still feeling relatively safe while sequestered back on Hershel's farm, but now the realities of this life hit him hard and he wanted to rage against it all.

"Well, I know why I'm pathetic," Carol admitted dejectedly, and Shane saw red. "What's your problem?"

"Awww, shoot. Carol, dontcha know better than that by now?" Sometimes he just didn't understand shit like this—this broken crap. He'd seen it when in the field—saw the same battered wives get beat up again and again, night after night, but he could never fathom why they didn't leave. He understood when they got fed up and put a bullet in the pricks they were married to, most of them reaching a point of such blind rage and hate that there didn't seem to be any other course—and he even respected that in a way. It might have been murder, but at least they stood up for themselves enough to say no. They just needed a little help to get the point across, he figured. But Carol? This battered woman who had no self-worth, no confidence, no true understanding of all the good she'd done, the importance she held within their group, that kind of blindness just didn't push its way into any kind of comprehension for Shane. It was almost like she hung onto that abuse like a pillow, protecting her from any good in the world. From where he stood, Daryl was the same, and now they'd created a baby. Just fucking great.

"Know what?"

She seemed genuinely confused and Shane just growled and kicked at the back wall of the house. He was glad he was outside because any second now he was going to lose it completely and either throttle her or run screaming into the woods.

"That you're better 'an that asshole you was married to. Fuck, he's dead and buried and you're still walkin' around like a tragedy waitin' to happen."

"O-kay," she said, backing up a step and Shane felt that feeling creep up again about how much of an asshole he was, but was unable to stop it sprouting wings and really taking off. "Why'd you tell me to stop? Obviously you're angry with me and maybe it's best if I'm not here while you sort it all out, or whatever you're tryin' to do."

"You bet your ass I'm angry," he hissed, not even caring that Andrea was slowly emerging from the back door, her expression wary.

"Why?" Carol asked, genuinely curious. "I mean, I thought if anyone was going to have a fit about my being pregnant, it would have been Daryl."

"Oh, don't go thinkin' that storm ain't on the horizon," Shane warned, starting to pace agitatedly, still ignoring Andrea as she made her way slowly closer to Carol.

"So, what's the deal? What's got you all worked up about it?" Andrea pushed, putting a protective arm around Carol.

"What's my deal? I'll tell you what my damn deal is," he exploded out of nowhere, irrational heat rushing into his head and his fists balling up spasmodically. "It isn't enough we're on the run for our lives here, but now the two most dysfunctional members of the whole group can't keep it in their pants and now we're stuck. Shit, they ain't even together. She don't even know how Dixon's gonna react, if he's even gonna take this kid on. Fuck, who knows if she's even gonna make it through the pregnancy." His brown eyes darted around wildly, his movements becoming jerky. "A month ago we thought her other kid was dead and now she's havin' another one? This is _bullshit._"

He seemed to sag as soon as the last expletive left his mouth, but as Carol stood blinking the tears out of her eyes and Andrea threw an angry glare at Shane, a fist seemed to come out of nowhere and connected with his chin, sending him flying backwards to land ass first in the dirt.

Merle stood before the ex-cop, throbbing with anger, Sophia wide-eyed at his side. "Calm the fuck down. The only dysfunctional asshole around here right now is you, and don't you be writin' my dumbass brother off yet," he spat, glaring at them all. "That boy don't know how to run away from his shit even if you drew him up a damn map and gave him money for the trip."

"Stop it." Carol threw herself between the men, a nervous, quivering hand outstretched toward Shane and eventually settling hesitantly against his arm. He looked down at it like it was something vile, his first impulse to violently shrug her off, but whatever haze had overtaken him seemed to lift gradually and he slumped against the wall of the house, shaking his head like he had no idea what was going on.

"I'm really sorry," Carol said, taking another step closer and he stared at her dumbly, his eyes red and stinging. Merle was right, he was an asshole, and the last thing he'd ever wanted to do was hurt Carol, not when she'd got him through so many of the shittier moments since their world had descended into this quagmire of crap.

"No." His voice sounded rough, scratchy and he hung his head in self-disgust. "I apologise, Carol. I had no right to take any of that out on you."

He was shocked when she rushed him and threw her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tight.

"I'm sorry Lori lost the baby," she whispered into his ear, making sure the others didn't hear her. "I know that must hurt, even if no one knew for sure."

He nodded, drew in a shaky breath as his forehead hit her shoulder. He suddenly felt exhaustion slam into him and his emotions swirled around inside, making him weak.

"I'm scared too," she confided, and to Shane's ears, she sounded terrified.

* * *

The sun had peaked high in the sky when Daryl was literally stonewalled. He stared at the barrier in shock for several minutes, his head still jumbled from disjointed thoughts about his life, before his actual brain kicked back in and he peered up to see how far it went. Pretty high, he reasoned, estimating the wall of craggy stone to be at least twelve foot. Curiosity piqued, he looked around for a tree he could climb so he could get up high enough to look over the wall and see what was on the other side. With years of experience behind him, he easily shimmied up onto the first branch, but the higher he climbed the less he thought it was a smart idea. The ground was looking a long way down and after skipping out on breakfast, and still reeling from Carol's bombshell, he felt the vague stages of vertigo kick in.

Dizziness hit him like a shot and he grappled with the branches, trying to hold steady, eyes closed and breathing deep and hard to try and banish the tremors in his body, trying not to fall. If he dropped to his death or cracked his head open when he was on the brink of such a discovery—on the edge of fatherhood—Carol would kill him for sure, and he couldn't rightly say he'd blame her.

Slowly his head cleared and his balance was restored. Opening his eyes, Daryl squinted first through the branches up at the sun and then at the branch he was wavering on, deciding it was high time he planted his ass on it and got to investigating what was going on beyond the wall.

It took him several minutes to ascertain he was looking at some kind of compound—a completely vacated one, silent and eerie with the ghosts of whoever had spent their time in there and who now were gone who knew where. There were buildings, lots of them, little huts that looked like homes, with small gardens of planter boxes, mini porches, curtains in the windows and paths that all seemed to lead to one big building in the middle. It seemed to be shut up tight, no windows visible from this side but a large double door barred and chained from the outside. A twisting knot of understanding balled in his gut. Daryl had seen enough of mass quarantine now to guess there were walkers in that building. The question was, how many, and were there any survivors within the walls. Despite this uncertainty, he knew this find was exactly what they needed—exactly what they'd been searching for.

Exactly where Carol needed to be to survive a pregnancy, and where his kid needed to be to survive this life. A shudder went through him and Daryl closed his eyes again, resting back against the bark of the tree. His kid. Shit. He'd never thought he'd be a father. Had never even contemplated it as he'd sharply veered away from potential relationships, protecting his heart and his body from the effects of being too special to another person. Never wanted to risk turning into something resembling his own, even though he knew somewhere inside it would never happen.

If he was truthful, he didn't know what to think—how to feel. He was numb, his brain shutting out everything that pushed him to feel too much. Sitting on the branch, looking out at what could well be their new home, a little bit of security hidden out in the middle of nowhere, he decided to not dwell on it. Carol was pregnant and he was the daddy. So fucking what. Wasn't like it was hard to procreate if you put the equipment in the right place, and he obviously had. He'd been an observer of the circle of life his entire miserable existence and this was just another one, but on a more personal level. This time he'd have his own brat to help form into something better than he was. It shouldn't be too hard, with a woman like Carol as its mother. With the whole group there to offer unwanted advice and noses they were always busy sticking into his business. The important thing, the thing that made him laugh in triumph, was that there was no way Merle was getting his paws on Carol now. If his kid in her belly wasn't claim enough, he'd resign himself to beating Merle on a daily basis until the idiot got the idea.

His gaze roved over the compound, trying to work out what it was and how far it extended. His eyes settled on a section to the right of where he was, what looked like a sign screwed to the wall covered in vines and foliage to obscure it. Feeling excited that he'd solved the issue of where they could safely settle, Daryl swung confidently down from the tree and marched toward the sign, ripping the obstruction down so he could read it properly.

"The Children of Perpetual Joy."

"Well, I'll be damned," Daryl said, then released an amused chuckle. "We've finally found God."


	35. Chapter 35

AN: Daryl's back but he's got shit to do before he tells Rick about stuff…smut warning…nobody's claiming it's good smut, though, so if you prefer not to, skip the last bit. I do not own any part of the Walking Dead.

Part Thirty-Five

Carol sat on the edge of a bed in one of the bedrooms, staring at the wall and seeing nothing. Inside her head she was reliving the day she'd told Ed she was pregnant, feeling the crushing fist that smashed into her cheek and the rattling of her brain as he seized her upper arms and shook her like a rag doll. She'd tasted blood in her mouth as she'd blanked out, zoned out like she was used to doing when he lost control and took it out on her. She was old, ugly, used up, no good, stupid, a whore and every other nasty thing he could think of, and as she blocked the pain he inflicted on her body out, the words still found a way to tease in and sink deep into her soul. It had been the last hope that he would change—that he could become the kind of man that could be a respectable father and husband. He'd been brutal, but nothing he'd done had managed to make her lose her child, and the existence of Sophia had been the only thing of light in her life. She loved her little girl, with everything she had left inside her, but she'd not been stupid again, never allowed herself to nurture another life in her womb. Never allowed herself to imagine another little personality becoming so important to her that it washed away all the punishment that would come her way. She'd never been that delusional again.

Until now.

Daryl didn't mean to hurt her, she knew that. The man was a force of nature; he reacted with fight and flight in equal measure and she'd accepted that from the start. It didn't stop the pain that radiated throughout her body but focused in hard at her heart. It didn't stop the fear that he wouldn't come back, or that he'd tell her to hell with it all as he took his brother and left the group for good. It didn't stop her heart from breaking at the thought she'd never be able to hold him again. There was no doubt in her at all that she'd love this baby—she already loved it with a power so elemental, so based in motherhood, that it took her breath away. A test would prove nothing more than she already knew in her head. Daryl Dixon's child was nestling in for the long haul in her womb and it made Carol feel more alive than she could ever remember. Loving a man apparently made all the difference, and even if he shunned her, ran scared from his child and her love for him, Carol knew she'd be okay, because at least he'd leave a little piece of himself behind for her to cherish.

That didn't stop the flood of tears that ravaged her face.

"Mom?"

Sophia's hesitant voice shocked her out of her introspection and Carol shook her head to clear it of the violent images that had almost paralysed her earlier.

"Hi, honey." She held her arms open wide to her daughter, not even bothering to hide her tears as Sophia had seen them too many times before to question their existence now.

"Can I ask you something?" Sophia watched her carefully, eyes wide and scared and Carol felt something inside her drop and her head go light.

"Of course you can." Carol rubbed her hand up Sophia's back, marvelling anew that Sophia was even there for her to do it, that her daughter was alive and there beside her and about to be a big sister.

"Outside earlier, Shane said you'd be lucky to make it through the pregnancy. He looked kind of scared, and mad, too. What did he mean?"

Carol's heart sank. Reality seemed to never get tired of trying to crush her down. The lightness in her head shifted and now she felt a subtle thumping start a tempo that echoed with the throb of blood shooting through her veins. She took a deep breath and contemplated how truthful she should be, but after years of watching the effects of her father's abuse, Carol knew she owed her daughter nothing but the truth.

"Pregnancy at my age always has its own complications," Carol confided slowly, her voice husky as she started to remember the risks herself and shook with her own mounting fear. "There's things like Down Syndrome which are more common for women in their forties. High blood pressure, gestational diabetes. There could be problems with the birth, or the baby could come early." The more potential problems she thought of, the more fear seemed to come out of nowhere until she was shaking with it, her daughter suddenly taking her hand and holding it tight.

"I'm scared," Sophia said, her voice choking with tears the young girl couldn't hold in, and Carol nodded her head, embracing her daughter while she sniffled in her hair.

"Me too," Carol admitted, wishing for all the world that Daryl was there, holding them both and telling them it would be okay, that they were survivors and that they were just being stupid focusing on the negative.

"Maybe…do you think you should try to stop it?" Sophia couldn't look at her and Carol was so shocked that she was relieved Sophia lacked the courage to meet her eyes, aghast that her daughter would suggest something like that, let alone know it was possible.

"W-what?" she stumbled, feeling sick. There was no way she'd even consider it. Just as she'd told Lori back at the farm, a child in this new world was hope and love and life and she wasn't going to deprive Daryl of that, even if it meant she didn't make it to the end to see this baby in his arms.

"If this baby is going to hurt you, maybe you should get rid of it."

Carol jerked away from Sophia, horrified. "Where did you even hear something like that?"

The girl jumped to her feet, putting distance between her mother and herself and Carol watched her carefully as the girl seemed to shrink under her stare, unsure of what was happening and feeling lost within it.

"Daddy always said if you ever got pregnant with another brat like me he'd make you get rid of it. I don't know how you do that, but maybe that's what you should do this time. I don't want to lose you."

"Oh." Carol burst into tears, her face buried in her hands as more of the awful truth of living all those years with Ed and the impact it had had on their child hit her. There never seemed any end to it, the damage he'd caused just by living, and she hated herself for exposing Sophia to it for so long.

"No," she croaked through her raw throat at last. "I can't do that. I know it will be dangerous, but I already love this baby—this is your little brother or sister, and your father can go rot in hell for the lies and garbage he tried to hurt us with."

Sophia considered her words and her eyes went dark. "Why did it have to be Daryl, then? Why couldn't you have had a baby with Merle instead? At least we'd know he'd take care of us."

Carol sat on the bed, stunned. Her body seemed so heavy all the sudden, wanting to just lie down and ignore all of this bullshit that seemed to crop up out of nowhere. Merle? Sophia wanted her to procreate with Merle? While the reality of the man had been something totally unexpected, and she was really beginning to like him as a human being, the thought of being intimate with Merle, of sharing a child and a life with him, didn't do her heartbeat any favours.

"Merle's really wonderful," Carol admitted sheepishly, a small smile breaking through the emotional wreckage of her face. "I'll forever be grateful to him for finding you, but…I love Daryl. I can't explain it, and I can't even tell him the truth of how I feel, but…that's how it is, Sophia. Sometimes life just doesn't give you the chance to make the smart decisions. You just deal with what and who it throws at you, and right now, it's a baby. Do you think you can help me with that? Be a big sister?"

Sophia nodded, slowly at first but then it picked up speed as the excitement hit her and she bounced back on the bed, asking all the typical sibling questions until Carol felt giddy from laughter and relief. At least she'd weathered one of those storms Shane had implied was on her horizon. She just wasn't so sure she had the energy for another one.

* * *

It was dark by the time he strode out of the woods, his gait slow with seized muscles from the pain of his earlier fight with Merle that had now definitely settled in. His crossbow was held aloft as he continued scanning for any threats or potential dinner he could take out on the way home. Three rabbits dangled lifelessly at his hip and Merle whistled long and low as Daryl got closer to the building. Glenn raised a hand in greeting as he stood on the porch taking watch, a hesitant smile on his lips as his gaze darted erratically between Daryl and Merle. As the former got closer, he jumped down the steps and announced he was going to walk the perimeter, leaving Daryl in a faceoff with his brother that he just now realised he'd been hoping to avoid.

Merle's face displayed an impressive purple bruise below his left eye and the cut from his split skin seemed to have been cleaned and dressed, along with the graze around his chin. Merle stared at his approach, his lip curled up in a derisive smirk Daryl was all too familiar with.

"You ready to talk about that woman like a man now, or you gonna go back to being a pussy and give me the message with your fists? 'Cause I gotta warn ya, I ain't gonna let you win again."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "You ain't never let me win a fight in your whole damn life."

Merle cracked a wide grin and a bitter chuckle erupted from deep within his chest. "Don't I know it, boy. You had some real intention behind you this time, though. Think you best tell me about it."

Daryl stood still, glowering at Merle's intentional misunderstanding of the situation.

"Carol is mine, an' if you touch her, I'll fuck you up. That man enough for ya?" He went to push past Merle to head up the stairs, fully aware that he had unfinished business with the woman in question, even though he was almost pissing himself with fear at facing her after his less than stellar exit that morning. Night was beginning to fall now and the news would have been spread through their whole group. Humiliation burned inside him and Daryl just wanted to get it over with, wanted to cement his fate and get all these people out of his face, but of course his own brother wouldn't let it go. Wouldn't let him on his way so he could dump the rabbits and go in search of his woman.

_His woman._

Just thinking it caused galloping terror to rip through him, making him stumble on the first step as his boot caught the board. Fuck, he'd never had a woman before, not one to call his own, and here he had Carol. While recognising without words that there was a strength of meaning behind whatever it was they felt for each other, he'd never outwardly admitted the exclusivity that he wanted, that he demanded she accept. If she didn't, he wasn't so sure the hole that was quickly forming a chasm in his chest was ever going to close.

"So bein' yours means you jus' up and leave her when she tells you you're gonna be a daddy, does it?' Merle pushed, voice harsh and accusative. Unforgiving. "That takes some real balls, little brother, runnin' out on the mother of your kid." Merle still hadn't stood up from his seat on the steps and Daryl reined in every impulse he had to strike out and kick his good for nothing brother in the head.

"The fuck you know about it?" his voice cracked as it reached a higher tone than it was used to, emotion almost strangling it out of him. "How many women you skipped out on when you knocked 'em up? Bet you coulda counted them on the two damn hands you _used _to have, you piece of shit."

Merle launched himself to his feet now, towering over Daryl and in his rage he shoved Daryl hard, the younger Dixon flailing backwards on his ass in the dirt. Without even thinking about it, he swung his crossbow in front of him as he flew back to his feet, the bolt still loaded and ready to shoot.

"You best not touch me again or I'll shoot ya between the eyes." He was breathing heavily, eyes narrowed, his vision blurred by tears he was ignoring. The last thing Daryl needed right now when he felt so stretched emotionally was for his brother to lay a hand on him, even if it was meant to smack Daryl into using his sense.

"You gonna shoot me now? It's a fine day you're havin' then," Merle growled, lips pulled tight across his teeth as anger and disgust roiled through him and he stood poised to strike at Daryl like a snake. "That woman, the one you say is yours, has been cryin' her eyes out all day 'cause of you. I don't know what all's goin' on between the two of you, but I'm smart enough to know when to back off when I gotta, but you don't step up and take care of this, I'm takin' over, an' you won't be gettin' a second chance, you hear?"

Merle didn't wait to see if he heard or not, if he agreed or was going to launch his arrow into his ugly face. He spun on his heel and was gone, leaving Daryl to feel like he was dismantling while he hesitated in the dirt in front of the house. A weary hand came to cover his eyes and he concentrated on slowing his breathing down, trying to fight back the images of violence he might let loose if any other one of the cock suckers he was sharing his life with these days felt a need to stick their beak into his business before he had the chance to set things right.

Shane appeared before him the second he opened his eyes and Daryl reared back in surprise. He'd not heard a single footstep, not heard the man's natural rhythm of life as he'd gained ground on him, and while it pissed him off that Shane would choose now to display this new skill he'd obviously been practising for a while, Daryl couldn't help but smirk his acknowledgement.

"Keep that up an' someone 'round here'll fit you with a bell so they know you're comin'. Might even be me," Daryl threatened with a grin, softening the impact of the words.

"Hey, man. Look, I should probably tell you, I didn't handle things so well with Carol earlier today." Shane's face was filled with remorse but Daryl was already on alert, his feet itching with the purpose to find Carol that he'd thought he'd lost after his confrontation with Merle.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Shane visibly shrunk, then ripped the cap off his head and ran his fingers through the coarse brown curls growing back on his scalp. "I mighta been a bit…look, this situation ain't ideal. She's an older lady havin' a baby an' there were risks with that before we didn't have hospitals and machines and shit, you know? I won't deny I'm scared for her. An'…I might still have had a few issues about Lori an' losin' my own chance at fatherhood and I probably took it out on Carol. She was good about it, though, an' if it's any consolation, Merle punched me in the face and called me an asshole." The self-conscious grin he tried to share with Daryl fell flat and then drifted entirely from his face, his brown eyes diverting to the dirt as he waited for Daryl to crack his face again with a Dixon fist.

For some reason, Daryl didn't feel like it. Instead, other words seemed to fix in his head and they swirled dizzyingly around until he felt his knees go weak. "What kind of risks?"

Shane looked up and Daryl could see the man seemed haunted by what could be in their future. "Not sure of the specifics, man, but I've seen it happen. We need to keep her happy and healthy and how are we supposed to do that with the stress we all live with every day? With no doctors that know what the hell they're doin'? When we might have to pack up and leave any minute? I know you'll do everythin' you can to keep her safe, but…" Shane ran his hand across his face, rubbing exhaustion and worry away or further in, Daryl couldn't tell. "She's important to this group. No one here wants to lose her."

Knowing how people did care for her made Daryl feel strange. For all the time Sophia was gone he'd wondered, thinking they all saw her as just another face around the fire, one moping and confused at losing the only real thing that tethered her to the world. Now he could see that even without his noticing, she'd had her impact in more places than just his life, and it made him want to protect her even more.

With a nod of understanding and an urgency to get things out in the open with Carol finally, to put his feelings across, he unhooked his kills from his belt and handed the rabbits to Shane. "Where is she?"

"Bedroom upstairs, last one on the right."

Daryl dipped his head in thanks and took off up the stairs, his heart pounding with fear and anticipation.

* * *

The room was dark when he pushed the door gently open and walked inside. She was lying on her side on the bed, facing away from him, but her steady breathing told him she was asleep. Daryl watched her for a moment, wondering what to do, whether to go to her now or go and tell Rick about his discovery first. The need to hold her won out and so with a click he shut the door and turned the lock. He propped his crossbow against the wall, kicked off his boots and removed the knife at his belt before carefully crawling up behind her. Staring at her back, he actually thought about whether or not he should touch her, but then his thoughts returned to the baby she carried and he realised he was being stupid worrying about touching her now when the results were already known to all.

Shuffling in close, he curled his hand around her middle, his fingers splayed against her belly where he figured the little beanie beginnings of his son or daughter was settling in for their nap. His hand felt electrified being this close to her flesh and with a burst of courage he had no idea where it originated from, his fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her top to stroke against her silken flesh. She made no response to his touch and so while she was oblivious, he grew bolder, his lips brushing against her shoulder impulsively as his hand swept a hypnotic circle around her abdomen until his fingers brushed against her ribs, moving upward until he reached the under swell of her breast.

The pads of his fingers slowly scraped over her skin, following the curve until they bumped into a nipple and the sense memory of her asking him to squeeze it that morning slammed into him. He moaned helplessly, his thumb flicking it while his fingertips formed around it again, gently plucking it. He wasn't prepared for the way her body arched so suddenly into him, the whimper that spilled past her lips or the leg that curled back to hook his and pulled him tighter into her body.

"Daryl?"

His eyes shot open in a split second of uncertainty, quickly chased away by jealously. "Who the hell else you expectin'? My brother?"

She flipped him over before he could think, straddling him and threading her fingers through his before hauling them up to be pinned above his head.

"Don't even kid about that. Someone could have filled me in he's been after me this whole time. I thought he was just bein' friendly." There was a wide grin quirking her lips and Daryl answered her with one of his own, relief combined with lack of food all day and his bruises from Merle's fists that morning making him almost giddy.

"Friendly? Hell, Merle walks around half the time with his dick so hard a cat can't even scratch it." Daryl ducked his gaze when she burst out a laugh but got an eyeful of her plump breasts and he swallowed hard, quickly looking back up to find her eyes soft as she watched him.

"You sayin' you don't? I'm obviously not doin' things right," she teased, and his cheeks flushed hot. It didn't stop him from jerking his hips up into the V of her legs as she straddled him, proving she was doing things exactly right if he was any judge. It was time to get serious, though, and so he clasped her hands tightly as they stayed above his head, and he watched her for any sign of uncertainty.

"You sure 'bout this? Merle's got more moves than a checkerboard and ain't all of 'em are movin' forward." His words might have it look like he was kidding, but his insides were tied up in knots. He had no idea how they'd reached this point, how she came to mean everything to him, but as she leaned forward, her lips just barely whispering against his, he figured he was past caring.

"I'm sure."

She kissed him and it was like it was the first time all over again, like all the stress of the past month was suddenly gone and they were making that first move toward each other without all the complications, without all the grief that had blighted it the first time around. He felt the swell of her lips as they caressed his, the tip of her tongue licking along the slit between his and his mouth dropped open, needing to taste her, to feel her pour herself into his mouth. One hand went to the back of her head, wanting her closer, needing her so desperately that his pulse was beating down the seconds till he exploded. His other hand seemed to get caught up in her shirt, lifting it higher until they had to break apart for her to get it over her head. And then, as he saw her skin, pale and freckled in the subtle candlelight, reason, care, and modesty flew out of his head. In a whirlwind of removed clothing, kisses, and touches, he'd rolled them, lying now naked between her legs, his mouth consuming her dusky, sensitive nipples, the wetness of her slit coaxing his dick inside her. Slowly he pushed at her entrance, his breaths coming at him harshly as he struggled to keep control, to keep this moment gentle, considered, loving. She held her palm against his face and he could still smell the scent of citrus from when she'd squeezed oranges for their breakfast juice. He sucked one of her fingers into his mouth, and her wide-eyed, lust-hot gaze fixed on him and as she held it, as she peered deep inside his soul, he slipped his full length into her and almost burned up as her liquid heat set him ablaze.

His first thrust was met with her legs creeping up around his waist. The position was new in itself—he'd never had sex when he wasn't standing up. Lying down with a woman always seemed too intimate, left him too emotionally vulnerable, but as Carol wound her legs around him, clamping him tight to her as he moved, a smooth rhythm developed between them that built a crescendo of sensation inside him. It drew up tight in his gut as his flesh nearly burst open with millions of little itches under the skin. His mouth was drawn to her neck, little bites along with soothing kisses, then a long lick before nibbling his way back down her throat, over her collarbone until he sucked a nipple back into his mouth, his blood jolting in his veins at her sharp gasps and heady moans.

"Daryl?" Carol panted against his hair as he nuzzled her breasts, his hips slowly driving himself in and out of her, pushing toward something monumental. He almost didn't hear her, his arousal roaring in his ears, his need for her shouting at him to complete this and make her his.

"Hmmm?"

"Does this mean…you're stayin'?" There was a hitch in her voice he didn't understand, the words making just as little sense. He couldn't remember saying he was going anywhere, couldn't work out why she'd think something so dumb when all he'd been able to think about for the last months was staying around for her, couldn't make a move without wanting her opinion first.

"Not goin' anywhere," he mumbled against her mouth as he dived in for another kiss, his dick swelling so tight he thought he was going to burst out of his skin.

"An' the baby?" she pressed and now he knew she was crazy, saying words that didn't matter when it was already decided, when they were already a family, even his dumbass brother in the mix.

"'s mine," he confirmed absently, his ass shaking as he tried to sustain the effort not to come, needing her to sense what he was feeling, not caring about anything else but this moment. He could feel her squeezing his dick, could feel her getting slicker and he just wanted the release, needed it as much as he needed to breathe, and when she opened her mouth again, he was afraid she was going to ruin it by bringing up shit they needed to just accept instead of fretting over it all.

"Of course it's yours—"

He attacked her mouth savagely, his tongue diving in to occupy her tongue before she said something that would ruin the mood, something that would make everything more complicated than he could deal with and tear it all apart.

"Shut up," he ordered, his words cracking with impatience. "I ain't runnin', ain't goin' nowhere, an' the kid's mine. Now come."

Her fingers tangled messily in his hair, dragging his mouth back to hers and he grunted happily, his pace quickening as he she tipped her hips up provocatively to his, back arching so her breasts pressed against his chest. Molten heat drew up in his gut and erupted out of him with a suddenness so abrupt he shook with it, the torture all the more sweet as she moaned into his mouth and her channel pulsed spasmodically against him.

Such intense pleasure spiked along his spine and slammed into the back of his skull. He shuddered, his body weak. He collapsed against her, his flesh slick with sweat and her legs relaxing to rub over his ass as they drifted to curl around his legs. Her arms held him tight, her breath ragged in his ear and then she was crying and kissing and leaving little love bites against his shoulder.

Only after it was done, after he slipped from her and slid to the side, did reality set in and his natural sense of self-preservation forced him to wonder what the hell he was supposed to do now. He'd never shared anything like this kind of intimacy with another person—let alone a woman, and with Carol it seemed like he was taking on a readymade family without his even being able to consider it first. How the hell was he going to do that without fucking it all up to shit?

How he could lay naked beside a woman that was now smiling at him like he'd made her the happiest woman alive, he just didn't know. She linked her arms around his neck, pulling him flush against her body and he went on high alert, finding it the most difficult thing he'd ever done to look her full on in the eye. She sensed his fear straight away, her composure crumbling in a second. Her smile dropped completely from her face as she watched him, worry settling around her like a shroud as her arms loosened and she strategically backed away.

"Was that okay?" He cringed at the note of fear he heard creep back in between them, forcing himself to not be such a pussy and snake his hand around her waist and pull her back, ignoring the panic swirling around in his own head that letting her in would be the biggest mistake he'd ever made. He had to leave it be, push it out and away from him for the sake of Carol and their child that grew inside her. He had no fucking clue about just about anything, but he did know that if he let this go and ran scared, Merle would make good on his promise and take everything that was meant to be his.

"Do you see me walkin' away?"

She shook her head, but there was no confidence in the move.

"No, but you're shutting down anyway."

She was right, and he felt ashamed of himself. It was too late for that, too late to retreat, too late to turn his back and return to a world where he was an asshole looking out for only himself and Merle, trying to stay alive. He was more than that now—she made him more than that.

He groaned, annoyed at himself for not finding all of this shit as easy as other men, burying his face in her throat.

"'M sorry."

"Me too," she said and he could tell her voice was laden with tears she was fighting hard not to shed. "I don't want you to feel pressured into this. If it's not what you want, you don't have to—"

"Would you just stop?" He felt like begging her to shut up, to just not open her mouth again until he could figure this all out in his own head. It wasn't enough to come into the room, lay up behind her and think he was going to be a daddy. It wasn't enough to _think_ all of this shit, he had to _do_ it. He'd just declared himself hers—or his body had at least—and there was no going back even if he wanted to. Which he didn't.

"Daryl."

"I mean it. If I felt pressured, I'd still be out in the woods. This ain't ideal, but I got no one but myself to blame—not that I was plannin' on blamin' anyone, so stop lookin' so guilty." He kissed her, his blue eyes clashing with hers as she stared him down while moulding her lips to his. Then they drifted closed and he sighed in relief against her mouth, welcoming the gentle entry of her tongue as it tangled with his. He broke away finally, his heart pounding and his hand shaking as he raised a finger to trace over her still glistening lips. "Don't promise I'll be good at any of this, but…I'm here."

He just hoped for now she thought that was enough.

AN…Phew, thank God for that. Not sure if you could tell, but I really hesitated with the smut. As usual, any feedback you have is craved like a drug! Many, many thanks to all of you for your reviews and my new likers and followers. You made me so excited to get into this chapter. I hope it didn't disappoint.


	36. Chapter 36

AN: Really sorry, everyone, that this one took so long to get written. I'm writing for two characters I've not touched much on so far, and also more smut. **gulps** The smut is in this first section, so if you don't love it, skip along folks! As always, I love your support, and I love to hear your thoughts. Please review!

Part Thirty-Six

She woke to the distinctive sounds of Daryl dressing. He was doing up buttons and shrugging on his vest and then, as she sat up and held the sheet around her naked frame, he grabbed at the strap of his crossbow and made to swing it over his shoulder.

"Daryl?"

He turned but couldn't seem to quite look at her, his gaze burning a hole in the floor. She was out of the bed like a shot, tugging the sheet free of the bottom of the bed and wrapping it around herself so she wouldn't scandalise his renewed sense of modesty.

"Need to fill Rick in on somethin'," he said, the gravelly sound of his voice rubbing her raw with want.

"You weren't goin' to wake me first?" She couldn't hide the shade of dismay or hurt that settled heavily in the room, already feeling ashamed about how much she wanted to be with him and how hard it was to let him go, even if it was just for a little while. Everything was still so new, so uncertain, and it was all Carol could do not to cling to him like some kind of desperado. To shake off this sense of vulnerability that one word could send him running away from her.

He startled, his gaze suddenly glancing off every surface in the room before it finally settled on her, and when it did, he sucked in a trembling breath, his hands squeezing the crossbow strap as he held it across his shoulder.

"Is that somethin' I should be doin' from now on? Tellin' you when I'm headin' out? I ain't leavin' the house, just need to talk to Rick an' Shane." He sounded so unsure, so confused about what he was supposed to be doing, how he was supposed to be acting, that Carol felt a little of her worry slide.

The little boy lost look he embraced almost broke her heart. She placed her palm against his cheek, melting as stunning blue eyes focused squarely on her and he drifted a little closer instinctually. "It's not sometin' you have to do, just maybe I'd like to see you before you leave, give you somethin' to make you want to come back," Carol said, speaking so low he had to bend closer to hear her, and as he did she seized the opportunity to press her lips against his. He balked, dragging himself back, then seemed to become more aware of his actions and abruptly dropped his crossbow before embracing her fully, planting hot, hungry kisses from her lips, along her jaw and to her earlobe.

Dancing around her lust for so long made Carol feel a little bit crazy, so, with her nails lightly scratching a path up his neck to rake through Daryl's hair, Carol seized his mouth again and put every single ounce of energy and want into showing him how she felt, knowing the words would spill out if she was given half the chance and desperate to keep him right where he stood and not bolting for what was on the other side of the door. The words could break a boundary that still stood between them, and as much as Carol wanted to banish every single wall either of them had erected, it wasn't up to her to tear it all down on her own—Daryl had to meet her half way.

An arm snaked around her middle and he jerked her awkwardly against him, the sheet slipping low down her back now that neither of her hands were actively trying to keep it in place. It didn't matter, only added to the genuine escalation of the moment. His mouth was warm, heating her from the inside out as the cool air settled across her naked shoulders. Barely aware of anything but the taste of him washing over her, Carol skimmed her hands over his chest and pushed the vest off his shoulders, whimpering as it fell to the floor. He gently bit her bottom lip as her fumbling fingers dealt with the buttons on his shirt, and then she felt his bare flesh against her palms as his shirt fluttered after the vest. Her thumbs rubbed impulsively over his nipples and he shuddered, his kiss devouring her as the intensity increased. Her head felt fuzzy, but not fuzzy enough to not notice when he yanked the sheet from her body the same moment his mouth left a scorching path down her throat. His lips settled around one nipple, sucking the dusky areola into his mouth with an insistent pressure that, added to the extreme sensitivity of pregnancy, sent a stinging bolt of pain and pleasure zinging through her veins. Her nipples throbbed, both of them, and then sensation swarmed across her flesh like millions of tiny pinpricks as Daryl rested the palm of his large hand right across her belly. He sucked and nibbled at her breasts, his teeth scraping across each nub again and again, leaving Carol whimpering as the hand against her belly massaged it gently then slipped to explore between her legs.

His middle finger rubbed shallowly along her slit, bouncing gently against her clit and there was nothing Carol could have done to hold in the broken moan that warred with her for release, or stop the frantic clutching of his head as he licked and sucked her to the edge. Barely able to make her legs work, she shuffled back and half fell, half crawled back onto the bed, her flesh buzzing with life. Daryl didn't let up, his mouth relentlessly worshipping her swollen breasts, his fingers tracing complex paths around and over her nub, gathering her moisture and spreading it against her, allowing his finger to pass rapidly over her clit. Carol was gasping, the sensation so new and unexpected that her brain was exploding with messages of what she needed to do first. In a flurry of desperation, her hands unfastened his pants, pushing them from his hips even as the first sparks seem to drill through her defences, followed by pure, searing fire that shot through her body and connected to every starved cell.

Gentleness flew from her mind as Carol pounced, dragging Daryl's head up with a rough yank of his hair. Their kiss was blistering passion as his body pushed her back, adrenaline thundering through her veins as at last he pushed into her, stretching her, her body moulding perfectly around him as he settled inside deep. His stroke was sure and strong, sliding beautifully against her until Carol nearly believed she was floating, a strange sensation when she was sure she was almost hyperventilating with lust. His pace increased and she became hyperaware of the light hair smattering his thighs as it tickled against her soft flesh, of how deeply he reached inside her, how wide her most intimate parts expanded to accommodate him, how his eyes burned the hottest blue as he tore himself from her lips and stared deeply into her, his hips thrusting in time to a rhythm he'd invented just for them. She gasped and ground against him, building up to an extension of her earlier pleasure. When warmth sparked deep in her womb, the rush of it building and fighting to find release, her eyes widened and she shuddered, bucking her hips up sharply before she shut her eyes in shock. Then he was plunging into her, longer, drawn out thrusts until his muscles stiffened he spilled into her suddenly, his hips still jerking in response. He collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving. Carol gently pushed against his chest and they rolled totheir sides, gazing at each other with a mirrored expression of shock.

Daryl broke out of it first, shaking his head and then planting an abrupt, short kiss on her shoulder.

"If that's how you're plannin' to encourage me to come back, I ain't sure I should ever try'n leave."

Carol giggled, her face flushed and sweat settling between her breasts. "You won't be gettin' any arguments from me."

"Really do need to go tell Rick somethin', though. You okay if I go?" He didn't wait for her answer, already standing and shucking back on his clothing, Carol flushing pink as she realised his pants had barely made it to his knees, his boots still in place. She blushed hard, scrambling to relocate her sheet and trying to cover herself up with it. A mischievous twinkle in his eye made her stop mid-tuck and his knuckles brushed against her breast.

She gasped and stood up fast, winding one hand into his hair at the nape of his neck while her other tried to hold the sheet against at least half of her body.

"What is it you have to go tell Rick?" She was hoping he'd forget all about Rick when his gaze flared and his hand opened to cup her breast. He swallowed hard, and Carol watched, captivated, at the smooth, tanned flesh of his throat as it flexed. Before he could open his mouth to speak she'd dived for it, taking a sample between her teeth and sucking on it gently, her tongue swirling against him.

"Fuck. You ain't nothin' but trouble. I gotta go tell Rick what I found in the woods."

Sense seemed to return to her slowly, an intuition that what he had found in the woods was something important that the others should be told about as soon as possible. It just hurt to let him go. If he stayed in her arms she felt no fear, felt no concern that he'd never come back.

"Okay," Carol conceded huskily, moving back until she was far enough away that she'd not try to seize another touch from him. "We still need to talk about things, mainly Sophia, but go talk to Rick."

His eyes shot wide at the mention of Sophia. "She's all right, ain't she? Did Merle do somethin'? I'll kill him. What'd he do?" He was a whirlwind of activity, grasping his shirt and vest off the floor and shrugging them back on, his crossbow resting against his back before Carol could even blink stupidly at the change from tentative lover to confident hunter. It was the mesh of strong and soft that had won her, but now she saw just how hot it was as well.

He stood in front of her, obviously waiting for an answer, and Carol couldn't remember what they were talking about. "Huh?"

He smirked, his finger raised to stroke a gentle line down her cheek as his lips settled a breath from hers. "Sophia," he exhaled, and Carol burned at the reminder, feeling shamed that during her lust she'd forgotten all about her daughter.

"Oh." She glanced up, pecked his lips then took a hesitant step backward. "She…might have expressed doubts about you and me together."

As soon as his face fell, his light spirit crashing rapidly to be replaced with a frown, Carol wished she'd never brought the subject up. Not pausing to think, knowing that if he left the room his bad mood would end up extending to any talk he had with Rick, she threw herself into his arms and wound herself up tight around him, holding on for all she was worth.

"She hates me," he said, sounding so defeated that Carol couldn't stop the tears that sprung to his defence.

"She doesn't know you, Daryl. She doesn't know what you did for her—only what Merle did. You're both good men, better than anyone has ever bothered to see before. Just give her time and she'll see you like I do."

He refused to look at her, burying his face in her shoulder as arms as rigid as steel held her to him. "An' if she don't?"

"Then my daughter is blind. Don't wind yourself up in knots about it, okay? Everything will be fine."

His palm settled against her belly and Carol sucked in a shocked breath, a heady sense of reality stabbing into her heart. "I have to get you someplace safe. Shane said—"

"Shane said a lot of things today. I think we need to step back for a bit and just let things settle. Worry about things when they happen."

Daryl jerked back, irritation plainly obvious in the twist of his mouth. He pressed against her belly, shaking his head. "This already happened. Too late to worry about shit after it goes all to fuck. We need a plan now, an' I'm workin' on it. Gotta go talk to Rick."

She could see she wasn't going to distract him again, nodding sadly as she let him go. "Okay, go talk. I'll be out soon to help Patricia with dinner."

He nodded, kissed her deeply on the lips and then left, his back straight and confident. Carol missed him already.

* * *

She'd always loved being outside at night, watching the stars as they first appear and then sparkle like glittering jewels against the darkness. It reminded her of her mother singing to her as a child, of the laughter that had always taken hold of her house, of Sunday family dinners and peach cobblers and Saturday night dates with Jimmy and…

Her cheeks were cold and wet by the time the memories began to wind down, silent sobs making her shoulders shake. There was an ache in her chest that, no matter what she tried to do, just wouldn't go away. It hurt so much that sometimes she thought it was actually physical, and she wondered if she should let her daddy know in case there was something he could do. Most of the time, though, she knew it was a hurt that existed so deep inside of her that she wasn't ever going to get it out.

She was so lonely, now. Maggie had Glenn and her daddy seemed to always be talking with Rick or Shane or Patricia, and even Carl had Sophia, and they were too young for her anyway. She was the only one who had no one to talk to, no one her own age who understood how she felt. No one who could help her get through this and find something to hope for in this horrible world.

Being in this place, this _house, _just made everything worse. It was so similar to her home, the one that was now probably destroyed by disgusting walkers that couldn't seem to stay out of anything. She wondered if they'd made it inside, if they'd managed to climb the stairs and trample through her room. If they'd slaughtered all the chickens and cows and stomped down all the garden beds. She wondered if the marker for her mom's grave still stood, Sean's, and she wondered if they'd left anything of Jimmy behind that they could have buried, if they hadn't had to run so desperately before they lost their own lives.

It was getting harder to breathe as her cries became more desperate, her need to keep herself quiet almost impossible. She couldn't let anyone know, though. Couldn't let anyone know how much she hurt, because then they'd all just hover around her forever, never leave her alone in case she tried to kill herself again. Wary of drawing any attention to herself, Beth drew up her knees and tried to push herself further into the shadows of the house. Andrea was on watch and Beth really didn't think she was very good at it, not seeing her at all as she'd snuck out of the house. It made her cry harder, knowing for sure now that she was invisible. Maybe she _should _just do it. This world was miserable—there was no laughter here anymore. Nothing here for her. No, that was just stupid. There was plenty of love still here—she could see it despite how hard she tried to squeeze her eyes shut against it. Even though they had little time for her, her daddy and Maggie both loved her more than anything else, and the relationships forming between the whole group showed her the new form of family. She was just so tired, tired of running and being scared all the time. Tired of having no one to soothe her through all the misgivings, all the death.

"Come on now, Beth. You know you shouldn't be out here. A walker could snap you up for dinner an' no one'd even know it."

Beth jumped to her feet, spinning to find Shane standing in front of her, appearing a little sheepish at how he'd snuck up and scared her silly. He saw her tears, then, and the tentative smile on his face completely dropped away as he reached forward and wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks with his thumb.

"You're right," she admitted, feeling shaky from the fright he gave her but weird at how he was touching her face. "I should be gettin' back inside. Daddy's probably missin' me by now."

"What's wrong? We're safe for right now, in this place. Nothin' to be sad about." He seemed so genuine that Beth couldn't stop herself from starting to cry all over again. The tears never seemed to completely go away, her throat always aching with the lump in there that just seemed to grow larger every day.

"I don't know," she snuffled around a sob and then gave in completely as Shane folded her into his arms, his hand running reassuringly over her back. They stood quietly together for a few minutes before Beth could see Andrea start to head back to her starting point. She shrank back into the shadows, Shane moving with her by default. He seemed to understand immediately that she didn't want to be seen, and so took her hand and quickly led her around to the back of the house, a knife in his hand in case they surprised a stray walker.

Now that Andrea was back at the porch, talking would be overheard, so Beth watched him, knowing her eyes betrayed all her fear at being caught outside when she wasn't meant to be. She didn't know Shane very well, only that he was a bit unpredictable and hot-headed, but from what she'd seen, he seemed to really care about keeping them all safe, and what she needed right now was faith that someone actually gave a damn about protecting her. He seemed to understand her need to just be without being told a word, his hand squeezing hers firmly as he sat beside her against the wall of the house, both of them staring out into the night as if waiting for it to do something significant other than turn back into day.

They must have sat there for close to an hour when Beth started to feel her eyelids droop. She'd catch herself slipping sideways, her head resting against Shane's shoulder for mere seconds before she would jerk upright once again, testing each time that he still held her hand, that his other hand still clasped the knife, and then she'd go through the whole process again.

Eventually, he stood, dragging her up with him.

"Come on." He replaced his knife, flattening his hand on her back as he lightly pushed her in the direction of the porch steps, an absent Andrea obviously back to doing her rounds. Before they'd left the dark shadows created by the moon, he dropped her hand, smiling reassuringly at her as they climbed the stairs together. He nodded at her as he left her in the front room, and Beth watched him move away, her brow crinkled in confusion. She never thought any of them would take any time for her, except for Maggie when Maggie wasn't already busy doing something else.

There was enough activity going on in the house that Beth was easily able to move around and find something to do that meant she was out of the way of the others. She found Lori folding their laundry, the hard, crisp clothes now clean but not exactly soft on their skin anymore. This was a good chore, thought Beth. This meant she could stay quiet, could watch everyone as they milled about finding their own things to do, or worried about their own problems.

She was startled when Daryl came bounding down the stairs, his steps making a loud thudding sound that caused her nerves to stretch tight. Sitting outside with Shane had calmed them down earlier, but the serious set of his face and the determined stride he used to burn up the space struck her back into that frame of mind from earlier, that she was about to lose everything that being in this farmhouse had promised to return to her.

"Rick. Shane. Need to talk."

The men looked to Daryl, shared a questioning look before shrugging and following him as he stomped through to the kitchen. Beth concentrated hard on keeping her feet still, despite the desperate urge she had to run right back outside. Shane was too preoccupied to come and get her again and next time she might not end up so lucky.

* * *

He'd been sitting at the kitchen table for going on an hour. At first it made her smile, thinking she'd caught his interest in some mysterious way, but now she could see the signs of a man that was staying put because he'd fallen deep into his own thoughts. He hadn't even looked up at her the whole time she'd been bustling about him, not even when she'd placed a glass of water and a bowl of the stew she'd cooked up for dinner. They'd sacrificed a chicken for this meal, and Patricia's mouth was salivating to try some. Figuring she'd rather sit there quietly with him and try some of her stew than leave him to ponder the state of the world on his own, she pulled out a chair across from him and waited.

He glanced up briefly before picking up his own spoon and took his first, experimental bite. Merle nodded in approval and set to scooping up more of his dinner with such a ferocity that Patricia was convinced he suspected someone was going to come in and take it off him. She laughed, finding the action cute in a way she was terrified he might ask her to explain.

"It's good." The raspy sound of his voice brushed over her skin like a calloused touch. She could imagine it vividly and lowered her eyes hastily before she embarrassed herself by being any more obvious.

"Thank you." She felt happy, Patricia realised. She'd always known purpose in her life, being Hershel's veterinary nurse, but when the walkers had started to come and people stopped needing things like vets and had all but gone into hiding, she'd found herself floundering. Otis had only been able to scare away some of her fears of dying—of ending up like Hershel's wife and step-son, and it wasn't like she'd needed to step in as a mother figure, because Beth and Maggie were pretty much grown and not inclined to take much notice of her as anything but a long-time family friend. She'd preferred it that way, actually. She'd not wanted to step on toes, take over in any way at all that would make the girls nervous or resentful of her presence.

Losing Otis had been a blow she'd not been expecting. It was stupid—_she'd _been stupid not to know it would happen eventually. He was the only one of them that went out there—hunting down their food, though they'd had plenty with the cows and chickens the farm had offered. He was bringing back walkers, more and more of them toward the end. A couple of hens had become less likely to satisfy the walkers locked away in the barn, and she'd known that, too. The whole memory of it seemed so remote now, like it had happened to someone else. There was too much going on around them now, too many things that were just too outrageous, too fantastical for her simple brain to sometimes process as reality. And now, here she was, on another farm, in another house cooking meals and finding happiness wherever she can get it.

Patricia looked at Merle, his bowl now empty and his narrowed blue eyes drilling holes into the table top as he thought furiously about something. He didn't scare her, though she's sure that once, probably not so long ago, he probably would have. Exposure to his brother had given her as much of a warning as she'd needed, however, and so any attempt from Merle Dixon to put her into a fluster or cause her to fear him had next to no impact.

She caught his eye once when she finished and went to claim his bowl to put in the sink. As she stood and his eyes followed her, creating the first of moments she'd hoped to create between them, Daryl marched in, his crossbow dropping to the table with a brutal thump.

"Jesus, Bro. Was you brought up in a barn or somethin'? Get your weapon off the damn table."

Daryl blushed, sweeping the crossbow to the floor just in time to catch Rick and Shane's chuckle as they came into the kitchen after him. All four men sat around the table and Patricia set a bowl of steaming chicken stew in front of each of them along with a glass of water before finding her way out of the room. There was something in Daryl's eye that said he wanted her gone so they could talk, and so she left, wondering what on earth was going to go wrong for them this time. Wondering why it was always the men that had the big talks while the women sat around cooking their stew.

* * *

Daryl waited impatiently, taking in Shane's stunned look and Rick's shudder of relief as his head suddenly came to rest in the cup of his hands. And Merle…his brother slammed his hand down on the table and laughed uproariously.

"Holy fuck. You gotta be kiddin' me. Trust you to go an' find Jesus when the world's up and gone to Hell." Merle banged the table again, obviously finding the whole irony of the Dixon's finding a refuge in God's house—of sorts—to be almost all he could stand. "You been prayin' or some shit like that you ain't been tellin' me about?" he asked, his grin still so wide that all his teeth shone in the lamp light set up around the kitchen. "You're havin' a pretty fine day, little brother. A good woman, a kid on the way and now you've found probably the most perfect place for us all to bed down and make a go of it. Come 'ere."

Daryl looked alarmed as Merle leapt to his feet and reached across the table to rub his knuckles roughly against Daryl's head.

"Cut that out." Daryl shoved his brother away, his hand rubbing the sore spot where Merle's knobbly knuckles had probably worn a groove into his skull.

"Just want some of your good luck to rub off on me." Merle cackled again, flopping back in his chair as the other two surrendered to his good mood.

Shane was shaking his head, his usually stressed expression relaxed with Daryl's news. "Man, you're dreamin'. Ain't none of us gonna get lucky again once everyone hears about this. They'll all be wantin' to rub Daryl's head."

Rick's snort of laughter annoyed Daryl, but then he couldn't seem to banish the good feeling that was suddenly building up inside him. He'd done good—he'd not run from Carol and his baby, he'd found them somewhere potentially safe to ride out this horror nightmare, and he'd put everyone in fine spirits to boot. They were eating chicken, for fuck's sake. After months trying to deal with the breakdown of the world as they'd come to know it, they were eating chicken and had the possibility of finding a haven behind the high, stone walls of a commune, promising them all their own little homes. Promising them life after getting used to one rapid death after another as they fought to survive.

Daryl bit his lip, chewing it nervously as he eyed the door and the stairs that led back up to the room he'd spent the last few hours in. He knew better than to trust in things that seemed so perfect—things that seemed to be the answer to all their prayers. Things were going too well for him, for him and Carol—even for the group. They'd had hardly any casualties recently and while he was going to fight with everything he had to protect the group, he had to make Carol his top priority—Carol, Sophia and Merle. They were his family and he wasn't going to let anything happen to them. He was the one who'd brought this news to the table, who had seen it for what it was—the chance that it was, the hope that it gave them all—but something about it still made him uncomfortable. Something that didn't quite sit right.

"We need to go check it out in the morning," Rick said, all of them arrested by the sunny smile on his face, the alleviation of the dark bags that had taken up residence under his eyes. This promise of hope seemed to shake off a level of Rick's crushing sense of responsibility, and Daryl thought that was at least a good thing.

Daryl just hoped this discovery didn't bite them in the ass.


	37. Chapter 37

AN: It's 3am and my kids have school in the morning—hubby is off to Melbourne for two days—so what do I do? I get my butt into gear and write a chapter. Hoping to start on the next one tomorrow, if I can keep my eyes open! I am devoting the second half of this chapter to ImOrca, who I give all credit for the idea to. She'll know what I mean ;)

Part Thirty-Seven

She was a thing of beauty. A stunning example of sleek lines, grace and the epitome of nature and T-Dog was going to swear on a hundred bibles that he was in love. He was absolutely salivating he was so in love. He was sweating from how in love he was.

He stood perfectly still, barely breathing as he watched in awe, as he contemplated his best chance of attack, how he was going to make this beauty his. He had no freaking idea how. He was totally lost at sea, clueless and mystified. A newbie with shaking legs and thumping heart, but have her he would. If he didn't get his hands on her soon he was going to explode.

He'd never been a hunter, was accustomed to what he wanted just falling into his lap, but this time, this time she was going to make him _work _for it. She was going to make him beg. He already knew he would, he'd cry if he had to, but before he dared wake up on another day, he'd have her, and he'd feed on her flesh like he'd never fed before.

She subtly scanned her surrounds, not seeing him as he hid behind the bushes, and as he successfully evaded her, he licked his lips and desperately held in a starved moan. Her ears flickered, and his breath hitched in his throat, his heart thumping hard in panic. Shit, he was losing her, and he still hadn't worked out what to do.

A not-so-subtle crack to his ribs dragged his attention away briefly, but he grinned as soon as Michonne thrust the gun into his hand, shrugging her shoulders in a casual manner, implying she didn't give a crap if he killed the deer but he could see the hunger in her eyes and it matched his own. It was a risk—they both knew a gunshot could bring a herd of walkers down on their heads, but there were only so many cans of peas a man could shovel down before his stomach revolted, and he was pretty sure that limit had been reached. Moving as slow as he dared, he took aim—at the animal's body. He knew he didn't have a hope in hell of getting it between the eyes and he knew no shame in that, easily recalling that deer back at the quarry camp that had been littered with Daryl's arrows. If the redneck couldn't get a doe between the eyes, then T-Dog wasn't going to consider it a failure to not even try.

One clanging expulsion of a bullet later and he was whooping with delight, until Michonne punched him hard in the arm.

"Go pick the damn thing up off the ground. I'll cover you."

It was a struggle, but he awkwardly hefted that thing off the forest floor and dangled it across his shoulders, nearly buckling to his knees at the weight. They'd barely begun to move when walkers started to appear from the trees from all directions, maybe ten of the filthy, greedy things. Michonne sliced them a path through and thankfully, after enough running to make him gasp and choke for breath and his knees consider giving out completely, they found the abandoned shack where she'd tied up her pets. She kicked the door in and helped him wrestle their load inside before barricading the entrance with the only piece of furniture not bolted to the floor.

They stayed quiet and watched for hours, and when she finally decided it was clear, they cut that beast up and had them some venison. T-Dog felt like he'd been cooking forever, but the meat wouldn't keep so they had to stuff themselves as much as they could. The memory of canned peas was a nightmare he knew would possibly be back on their menu faster than it took to shoot their dinner, and he was going to stuff himself so full that he wouldn't be able to move. He barely even glanced at Michonne until he'd scoffed almost half the steaks he'd cut, his eyebrow cocked as Michonne moaned, flopped back on the floor, flicking open the snap on her jeans and let the biggest fart he'd ever heard from a woman rip through the shack's confines. His mouth dropped open in shock.

"Hell, girl, that's just nasty."

"Better out than in," she said, her eyes squeezed shut as her belly protruded out of her pants and she groaned in a mix of misery and satisfaction.

He cracked it, laughing until his bulging belly pushed against his bladder and the smell of waste canned peas drifted to his nose, then he was retching while trying to pinch his nostrils closed with his fingers.

"Bitch, I vote next time you keep that shit in."

"There's no keeping shit _in, _Theodore. Call it justice for my having to hear you let them go every twenty minutes when you sleep and I'm stuck keeping watch. Some nights you've got a symphony playing in your pants."

He didn't think it was possible that he could still blush after spending over a month in close proximity with this woman. She had no shame, absolutely none, and no respect for him being a man. If he looked hard, he was sure he'd see some crisp, black curls peeping out the top of her bright red panties, and he knew before the day was out he'd probably catch a full on frontal of her tits as she changed tops. She never even asked him to turn around. He hadn't decided yet if she was actively trying to tempt him so she could cut off his dick, fuck him into the floor, or if she just figured he was gay and not interested in her goodies. Hell, one of these days he was going to free Big Willy and watch _her _eyes fall out of her head. Here he was, the _dawg, _and he was the one too prim and proper to flash his wares when she had no damn trouble at all. He was damned ashamed of himself.

"That's 'cause I'm a _man, _baby girl. It's what men do."

She arched a perfectly shaped brow. "I'm absolutely sure God made us equal. Men just have no manners to keep it quiet."

"That's what I said," he said with a face-splitting grin. "It's what men do."

She rolled her eyes, then groaned out loud. "God, I'm so full I feel ill." Before he could blink, she unzipped the front of her vest, allowing it to slide open except for the small upper corners that hid her nipples, though he had a full, unfettered view of her curves and the sharp jut of her ribs. He was going to die.

"Yeah, my pants are too tight," he teased, testing the waters, nearly jerking into his boxers as her eyes wandered over his lower half lazily.

"Take them off, then. There's no one around to notice."

Well, _fuck._

* * *

Christ, he'd forgotten how far he'd walked after beating Merle's ass into the ground, thinking about his fucked up life and how he was going to handle being a pa. They'd been going at a steady pace for hours and Daryl still wasn't sure if they were close or if the place he'd found had just been a mirage that had appeared, offering him salvation and a reason to make him turn around and get back to the group.

"So, little brother. How's it feel to be a man finally?"

He knew it was coming—was shocked, to tell the truth, that it had taken Merle this long before he started in on him.

"Shut up." He was concentrating, had to find this place so they didn't all think he'd lost his mind, making up stories and shit.

"Come on, bro. I been waitin' damn near forty years for your dick to see the light of day. Don't shut me out now."

Daryl ground to a halt, glared at the dirt and gnashed his teeth instead of taking a damn big bite out of his dumb as shit brother.

"Hold on," Shane piped up, elbowing Rick to the side as he made short work of getting in front of Daryl. "Is Merle makin' the big reveal that you were a virgin? You get Carol pregnant your first time out of the box?"

Shane and Merle started laughing, Daryl flexing his fists that hung at his sides as he glared at the two of them.

"Merle don't know shit about nothin'. Pretty hard to keep tabs on my sex life when he's in an outa prison."

"Weren't always in prison, you little shit."

Temper at boiling point, Daryl shoved Merle and got right up into his face. "I'm a fuckin' grown-ass man, jackass. I might not stick it in every snatch that walks past, but I know what to do with it when I choose ta. Not that it's any o'your concern."

"Well, you don't know shit about coverin' it up, Darylina, or I wouldn't be on my way to becomin' Uncle Merle, would I?"

Daryl stopped just short of smashing the grin on Merle's face right into his teeth, and took a really good look at his brother. He was smiling, his body relaxed, having fun teasing Daryl to within an inch of his patience. All the huff suddenly evaporated right out of him and he sagged in defeat.

"Fuck, just get it over with," he said, his head hanging low as he studied the grass around his feet.

"I even got the perfect name for it. You can call the tyke Badger."

Rick and Shane looked warily between the two brothers, confused.

"Hell, I'll bite," said Shane, smirking so hard his teeth shone in the sunlight. "Why Badger? We ain't even had one of those for dinner yet."

"An' we ain't gonna, neither. Not if my nephew's gonna be called Badger," Merle declared hotly, but with a twinkle in his eye.

"Merle, the baby could be a girl," Rick interjected wisely, and Daryl rolled his eyes and slapped his own head.

"Fuck. We ain't callin' this kid Badger, an' we ain't gonna be eatin' none, neither. No badgers in these parts anyways." He shouldn't even have to say it.

"No, wait. I got this shit all worked out," Merle said, holding his hand out to stop Daryl arguing, as if he'd take notice of that simplistic gesture. Daryl growled deep in his throat and wondered if he could get away with smacking his brother in the head with his crossbow. "Badger As-salaam Dixon. Seems only fittin' seein' as how you're draggin' our asses through the woods to find God."

Rick and Shane stared at Merle, obviously dumbfounded by the suggestion.

"The hell you come up with a name like that? What's it mean?" Shane looked genuinely interested, staring at Merle with a whole new respect and understanding.

"It means, dumbass, peace an' safety an' it has the added karma of being God's divine name. Perfect for Mr. Zen over there, and for short the little one can be Bad Ass Dixon. It's fuckin' perfect."

There was a short, beautiful moment of silence, and then Shane, Rick and Merle laughed hysterically at the joke, laughing harder at Daryl's disgusted look as he stomped off away from them. "You assholes just jinxed this kid. It's gonna be a girl, an' it's gonna have Merle's personality. Won't be no peaceful brat, that's for sure."

He was on his own for the rest of the way, the others lagging behind making fun of him and chumming it up with Merle. He was so surprised by it, and secretly pleased that Merle was bonding, that he didn't care too much, just plotting his course by the position of the sun so he could get back to where he'd found that place before.

Forty minutes later he found himself suddenly blocked by the stone wall that had ended his previous introspective journey. He stopped, getting more impatient the longer it took for the others to catch up.

"I barely made it back before dark last time. You lot might wanna get the lead out of your asses," he shouted, not caring if a ton of walkers descended down on their fool heads.

They broke into a jog and finally met him around the wall at a wrought iron gate, fancy pattern work overgrown with ivy and all clamped together with heavy duty chains. Daryl gave the immobile gate a useless shove before he set off again around the wall, looking for another way into the place.

He was walking quite a way around, seeing how vast an area the compound occupied, when he came across a part of the wall that had a fallen tree against it. It would still be an interesting trip up the trunk but he figured they'd make it. They were men after all, and reasonably fit. One by one they scaled the fence and dropped over to the other side, weapons at the ready. Merle was the last but even with a knife in place of a hand, he got up with no trouble, throwing his brother an arrogant smirk that just made Daryl roll his eyes once again. Fucking things were starting to ache.

"First things first, we find another way back over in case the place is swarming with walkers," Rick told them quietly, so they quickly set about finding a way out of the place on the chance they had to get out fast.

They'd entered at what looked like the back of the place, a good distance from the main building where Daryl suspected a nasty surprise contained within waited for them. The section looked almost rural, and when the strident bellow of a cow behind a barn sounded out, they nearly pissed their pants.

"Holy shit," Shane shouted, excited as he ran around the barn and pulled up short, Rick just barely stopping before slamming into his back. "Is that a freaking cow?"

Daryl stalled, staring at the spacious field that was the home of three cows and two calves.

"Cows. Milkin' cows, too." Merle scratched his head and licked his lips. "Shit. I ain't had fresh milk since before they locked me up."

Rick and Shane both tore their gaze away from the liquid gold chewing their cud in the fields to stare incredulously at Merle.

"Am I to assume from that you were still locked up when all this shit went down?" Rick asked, his hand reflexively hovering over his holster.

"Hey, chill, man. They let us all go. Daryl didn't break me out. Prisoners were all free as birds when the world went all to fuck." Merle didn't even look scared of the sudden threat, a shit-eating grin settling across his lips as he eyed the two former cops with a non-verbal challenge. "Not like I was in there for anythin' more than possession anyhow." He shrugged like it was no big deal, and since he'd been clean for months now, he didn't feel like it was anymore. It wasn't like he could go seek out his dealer to replenish his stash, and since he'd been back with the group, there'd been no sign of his old one. Daryl knew he'd been looking, though he'd tried not to be obvious about it.

"Let's get on with it, yeah?" He headed off, coming to another stop when he saw the hen house teeming with chickens and then a bit further out a lake with what looked like ducks. Merle slapped him on the back as he came to settle beside him. "You think there might be fish in that lake?" Daryl asked, just waiting for Merle to start spouting some biblical verse about how God was providing for them by having faith or some other bullshit. Merle was always coming out with crap like that.

Merle opened his mouth and Daryl glared. "Just don't even fuckin' start."

"You got a problem with the good Lord providin' for his people?" Merle asked, cracking a grin.

"I got a problem with things bein' too damn perfect," Daryl admitted, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought it all out. Shane and Rick stood beside him after setting up some sacks of grain against the wall for a speedy getaway should they need it, though Daryl was sure with the existence of live animals in the yard, they'd be pretty safe.

Shane eyed him, his own brow furrowed with concern. "You got a bad feelin' about this place?"

Daryl shrugged, not quite sure what he was feeling now he was inside. All he knew was, if it looked too good to be true, it most times was. He nodded toward the main section of the compound, a dirt road quickly turning into a blacktop as it meandered through the centre of the little township, small huts that looked friendly and family-oriented set out a nice distance from each other on one side and a small business area along the other. Right at the end was the largest building, painted brown to blend in, Daryl guessed. At this he stared, and his flesh buzzed with warning.

"You remember WACO?" he asked while staring down the street at the building with an unwavering sense of foreboding.

"Oh shit," Shane said as he stepped forward, whipping off his hat and rubbing his head. "You think that's where all the followers are?"

Daryl nodded slowly, expression solemn. "Yeah. Think they all gathered in there an' whichever asshole thought he was God in this place, convinced 'em it was part of the grand plan to opt out. I'm thinkin'…there's a fuck ton of walkers in there."

The four of them stood in a line across the road, cows pulling grass out by the roots and chewing it behind them, and they stared at what was likely the biggest threat against them being able to claim this place as their own—take possession of their new home.

"Best go check it out then. Not gonna know shit if we're all standin' 'round here like a buncha girls," Merle declared as he took off down the road, walking straight down the middle like he had nothing to fear.

"It's Hershel's barn all over again," Shane growled under his breath but closely following Merle's heels.

Rick held Daryl back with a hand on his shoulder. "We need this place."

The sky was already beginning to tip toward the latter half of the day and Daryl could feel the imperceptible shift in the temperature, signalling the coming of night. They needed to see what was what and head back if they had any chance of making it back to their people before dark, and Daryl wanted to get back to _his _people. Back to Carol. Back to Sophia. He knew what this place was. It was hope in the middle of Hell. It was a place his family could call home. It was a place his group could make a community, like Merle's buddy the Governor, but without the psycho at the helm.

"Yeah," he answered Rick, his voice dry and coarse with the pressure of trying not to hope too hard. "We do."

When he looked back, Merle and Shane had already seen whatever needed to be seen and were running back to them, and running fast.

"Let's go," Shane yelled, and without even stopping, the two of them passed Daryl and Rick and headed straight for the wall, Shane almost catapulting right over it with the momentum of his run, Merle scrabbling over just as quick behind him. Rick and Daryl took a final look down the street, saw absolutely no movement but followed the other two men anyway, but at a decidedly slower pace, grinning a little at how spooked the other two had been. Rick went over first, followed by Daryl and he landed to find Shane and Merle panting and snickering like two little boys being caught sticking their hands in their mamma's cookie jar.

Daryl stood before them, waiting for an explanation that was apparently not coming. "The hell was that all about?"

"Biters, baby bro." Merle bent double, his hand braced on his knee as he regained his breath.

"I'd say about a hundred at least," Shane agreed.

"Nah, closer to two hundred with all those kids in there," Merle added, and Daryl cringed. Kids. Of course there'd be kids.

Daryl watched as Rick's shoulders drooped and he wanted to kick him. He never expected this place could just fall into their laps without a fight. Well, now they knew what the fight was, they just had to plan a strategy so they could win it. "We'll have to clear it before we bring anyone back here."

Rick looked defeated before they'd even begun. "How you propose we gonna do that?"

"Don't know yet," Daryl replied honestly, but he wasn't giving in before they'd even tried. "We gotta come up with a plan. Let's head back and talk about it with Glenn and Hershel. There's gotta be a way."

"There's always a way, bro." Merle, recovered from his Olympic sprint, wrapped his arm across Daryl's shoulders and started tugging him back into the woods, heading back to the group. Daryl shrugged him off and gave him a shove, prepared for Merle's answering shove before he took off at a run, the brothers playing a strange game of tag as they tore off in the direction of the farm.

Rick and Shane jogged behind them, smirking as Merle took the lead, shouting back at Daryl to move his ass before he got to Carol and told her she was naming the kid Bad Ass Dixon. It came as no surprise when they got back that Daryl was nowhere to be seen and Merle was lying in the dirt, laughing his ass off in between groans of pain.

**AN: **All credit for Bad Ass Dixon goes to ImOrca. Who knows, Carol might even like Badger as a name ;)


	38. Chapter 38

Part Thirty-Eight

"We could burn it down." Glenn received not the first dirty look of the night for that suggestion.

"What would be the point o'that, Jackie? Whole place might catch alight and then we're right back to nothin'." Merle sat back in his chair, stretching his arms up in the air and then relaxing them behind his head. Carol was watching and expelled a little sigh of relief that he'd detached the knife or poor Andrea sitting next to him might have been slashed in the face.

"Well how do you propose we take out two hundred walkers closed up in a hall?" Glenn prodded, his eyes burning with resentment. Seemed like every idea he came up with was shot down in flames—it didn't matter that this was only his second idea. The first one had been practically bounced out the door by Daryl before it had even fully left his mouth. Carol felt sorry for him. Usually he was really smart when strategizing, but this time, Carol just couldn't see a viable option, no matter who suggested it.

"Don't rightly know," Merle at least had the decency to admit honestly, and Glenn seemed to let some of the tension roll off his back. "We could make something like a cattle run out the door, stand behind the fencing and kill them as they come out."

"It's hundreds of walkers, Merle. Don't you think that could get out of control real quick?" Shane asked, though it was obvious he was trying to imagine the idea in action.

"Shit, it could all go south with only ten walkers. We make it maybe ten feet long, place our people all around it, stab the pricks in the head until it's done. Have someone near the door to try an' push 'em back and lock 'em back in if it looks like there's too many."

That sounded extremely dangerous to Carol. "And then what?" She'd been quiet up until now, listening with a growing sense of alarm as they first revealed the existence of this place, then the walkers in the main building, and now the plan to get rid of them and move them all in. Every set of eyes turned to stare at her, even her own daughter and lover, like she was being slow in the head. Maybe she was. Pregnancy could mess with a person's processes, she knew that, but it seemed pretty obvious to her that this situation could well be beyond them.

"Then….we move in. Play happy families," Shane told her, speaking to her like she was a child.

She tutted at him irritably, glaring at a few others that weren't so quick to hide their incredulous expressions at her supposedly stupid question.

"Oh really? That sounds like a whole lot of fun," she deadpanned, waiting for the penny to drop, and when it never did she huffed in disgust. "Seriously, you boys are all about the killin', but what do you plan to do to dispose of two hundred walker carcasses?"

"Burn 'em," Daryl told her, slowly. "Like we always do."

"Burn 'em?" Her eyes shot wide open as she stared him down, suddenly wondering if he was as intelligent as she'd always pegged him as. A quick glance around the table and she was thinking maybe Andrea and Lori were starting to get where she was coming from.

"Burn 'em where, exactly?" Lori asked, and Carol gave her a wink, wishing she could hug her instead for backing her up.

"I dunno," Daryl grumbled, quickly getting impatient with the conversation. "Outside the wall somewhere, I guess."

"Outside the wall?" Carol repeated, and for a second she pondered the likelihood that she really was starting to sound stupid. It was time to slap them over the head with the obvious. "Let's think about that for a second, Daryl. You burn a pile of two hundred bodies outside the wall, that's a pretty impressive fire. That's also a pretty impressive smell and pretty revolting ash that ends up all over our new little community. If you take it into the woods, you risk the trees catching fire and burning out your entire hunting ground. You burn these things anywhere near to where we're going to be livin', you're ringing a dinner bell to all walkers that can see it and you're lighting up a beacon to any other survivors in the area to just come on in and try to take what we just took. Am I paintin' the picture bright enough for you?"

Rick cleared his throat nervously, shared a glance with Shane and Merle, and she just barely caught them smirking. If she wasn't working herself up into a tizzy she might have slapped all three of them.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. I see your point." Daryl's grudging acceptance was tainted with a smidgeon of humour and indulgence and Carol felt her blood pressure rise. She couldn't quite explain why she felt so angry, but it could have something to do with the fact that she already felt like her life was in danger just by being pregnant and now Daryl was going to be knee deep in trying to evacuate a pipe dream by killing a walker army the likes they'd never seen before. There were two hundred possible chances for it all to go spectacularly wrong, leaving her with a broken heart, a fatherless child, and possibly Sophia without either of them.

"Oh good," she said cattily, her eyes darting around at everyone as a lump grew in her throat. "Being that I'm stupid and all." Before anyone could respond, Carol was out of her seat and retreating like her ass was on fire to the room she'd claimed as theirs, slamming the door behind her and wedging a chair under the door handle for good measure.

Her misery seemed to burst open the second her body collided with the bed and Carol buried her face into her pillow to try and muffle her cries. She was so sick of feeling vulnerable. For months now it had been physical—at the mercy of her husband's violent temper, then left cruelly to defend herself and Sophia against the walker scourge that was leaving them very few places to go. She'd so very nearly failed at that one, losing Sophia for so long she'd thought she was dead. Had _known _it like she'd known her own name. Sophia had been bit, and had run away to die. There was nothing that could possibly leave her more vulnerable than that. Until she'd fallen in love with Daryl and foolishly fallen pregnant at the end of the world when she was at the latter end of her childbearing years with no medical intervention in continued existence. The weakness she felt now was ferocious in how it did a number in her head. Ferocious in how it made her knees buckle and her heart cry out for something she wasn't sure she could ever have.

She hated that she could never feel certain. Not certain how Daryl felt about her, not certain about her place in this group, not certain that she'd survive another day out there in this new, dangerous world let alone if she made it through her pregnancy. She wanted so very much to hold this baby in her arms and she felt so _stupid _for thinking so far ahead when the baby was barely bigger than a peanut. It may never even make it to the size of a walnut for all she knew and already she was thinking of clothes, names, feeling her baby's flesh warm against her own.

Not that any of it would matter if Daryl ended up dead just so they'd have a safer place to stay.

She felt emotionally exhausted and the tears just wouldn't stop flowing. Feeling like she had no choices left, Carol gave into the hollow feeling in her heart and sobbed helplessly into her pillow.

* * *

Daryl sat at the table, staring at the spot where Carol had disappeared, and looked completely shell-shocked. "The hell just happened?"

Andrea rolled her eyes at him. "Really? You can't tell she's terrified?"

"Terrified of what? Ain't nothin' more than we've faced before. 'Least now we got us a real chance at a life." He was honestly bewildered why Carol wasn't the one jumping for joy at his discovery. The day when he'd found the place, he'd been slapped with an overwhelming change to his life. He'd been forced out of his comfort zone of holding everyone at arm's length and found out that the one woman he'd ever considered taking a risk on was going to be permanently glued to his side with his own baby bouncing on her hip. His own reckless actions in a moment of pure fear, when his adrenaline had been pumping furiously through his body, had made him a pappy, and while his first response had been to run, and run hard and fast and as far as he possibly could, all he'd really wanted was to be with Carol and to keep his little family safe. Next thing he'd almost stumbled blindly into the stone wall that was literally the answer to all their prayers. Now she was going batshit crazy and making him look like a dumbass to the rest of the group. And she'd done all that because she was _afraid_?

"You're actually serious, aren't you?" Andrea almost lit up, an amused smile on her lips, her eyes glistening with mirth, and Daryl's mouth cracked around a grimace. "Do you have any idea how crazy this sounds? You guys are going to march in there armed with, what? Crowbars and pitchforks, and take down up to two hundred walkers, some of who are kids, and you think Carol's crazy for being scared that it could all go wrong and she's left a single parent?"

_Oh._

"Well, what the fuck do you suggest? We keep our asses on this farm and let another herd come in and kill us off? I know it's a damn risk, but it's one we gotta take."

Andrea leaned across the table, all remnants of humour wiped clear from her face. "She's pregnant, Daryl. All this, with you, it's new to her. She's afraid of losing you, and pregnancy hormones would be making it worse. No one is saying that this place you found isn't perfect and we should do everything we can to take it, but cut her some slack, why don't you?"

"I'll go up and check on her," Lori offered, reaching out and grasping Daryl's hand in a quick, reassuring squeeze before he had the chance to flinch away and snatch his hand out of hers. Compassion seemed to flow from her gaze before she left the table, her hand gently caressing Rick's shoulder as she walked past him and headed up the stairs.

"Are we all goin' there to kill these walkers?" a small voice asked and everyone turned in surprise to see Beth, wide-eyed and shaking.

"No," Shane answered her. "Daryl, Rick, Merle, Glenn, Maggie, Andrea and I will go back to the commune and clear the hall, and then we'll come back and get ya'll when it's safe."

"And what if walkers come through here while ya'll are gone? Who's gonna protect us if we're here on our own?" Beth pointed out another flaw to their plan, the only firepower being left behind being Hershel.

"Glenn and Maggie stay," Rick decided on the spot, nodding to the couple who at first seemed hesitant to agree but who finally settled with a quick nod. "We'll set up a plan and a way to find each other if something like that happens. It'll be fine, Beth. This will work."

The discussion continued through the night with the kids getting up and leaving pretty soon after Lori had left the table, going off to find something entertaining for them to do, and as the plan seemed to develop with more and more loopholes, based more on drive and determination than actual foolhardy skill, the women got up and left them to it as well. Daryl watched Merle as his brother seemed fascinated by Andrea and Patricia as they headed off together, a frown settling in deep creases around his eyes. Beth scrambled after them, Shane's head turning slightly as he watched her leave, then concentrating once again on their plan. Daryl was sick of watching. He just wanted to go talk to Carol and find out exactly how much shit he was in. Wanted to know if he'd be sleeping on the floor, remembering what it was like to dream about touching her rather than having the right to just do it. It didn't look like he'd get the chance to talk to her for hours yet, so Daryl sighed, sat back and tried to think of a plan that would keep all their asses safe.

* * *

Andrea took over watch as Hershel beat a path to the kitchen, eager to hear the developments about the commune. Patricia watched him walk inside, and then observed Andrea as she wandered off the porch to do her first lap around the property. Without a single weapon in her hand, she sat in the swing seat on the porch and tried not to think too deeply about her life.

The night seemed menacing, for some reason. She couldn't explain it, couldn't shake it, this feeling of being watched. She felt like there were eyes in the woods, quietly observing her for some purpose she couldn't ever comprehend.

Sitting alone, she felt afraid. Even though the house was filled with people and Andrea was patrolling the perimeter, she felt like something wasn't quite right. The air around her felt stifling, like it wasn't hers to breathe. There was something out there that just fed this reality of the unnatural—it was creepy and as the sensation of it sank into her bones, her blood chilled in her veins and her skin erupted in goosebumps. She stared out at the woods, trying to see if there was anything moving amongst the trees, if the subtle whispers of the wind was hiding a secret too sinister for her to comprehend, and then she nearly jumped completely out of her skin as someone sat down beside her and the metal seat creaked and groaned under their weight.

He'd washed up before dinner, she knew, having caught the subtle whiff of the plain soap they'd all been using as she'd dished up his plate. So far, though, Merle hadn't made any effort to speak to her, let alone seek her out. She was so shocked now that he sat beside her that she didn't think she'd be able to speak.

"Whatcha lookin' at?"

Patricia chanced a glance at him, feeling sick and nervous for reasons she couldn't explain. She'd been a married woman, for Heaven's sake. It didn't make sense for her to feel all tongue-tied around a man, especially a man like Merle.

"Not sure," she finally choked out, still feeling that unsavoury sense of unreality travelling across her flesh and leaving tiny prickles behind. "Something don't feel right."

"That'd be the world full of biters," he suggested, grinning like a little boy.

Patricia immediately relaxed, sitting back in the chair and automatically kicking the chair into a swing. Merle wasn't ready for it, his large body jolting at the sudden motion before he calmed his way into the slow rocking motion, his own, longer legs keeping it going after Patricia's first kick had started to slow to a stop.

"Shouldn't you be inside helpin' with the plan?" She cocked her head to the side and drank him in. He was so strong, probably in ways she'd never even considered, and yet she knew his past and how weakness dotted its way through it.

"They're doin' nothin' but talkin' round and round in circles. A man needs to relax a little before bed otherwise that twisted shit runs around on repeat in his head. Last thing I need before we tackle a million walkers is nightmares about it all going to shit." He stretched, popping a muscle in his neck. Patricia could hear the creak of his bones settling back into position as he relaxed further into the seat and she could see the sleepiness that was adding a droop to his eyelids.

"You know, the first time I heard of Merle Dixon was on a pill bottle. Your havin' the clap saved T-Dog's life. That must make you feel pretty good." She was doing her best to hide a grin, looking down at her lap as he jerked upright and blustered.

"My dick's helped solve a lot o' problems in its time, darlin', but I ain't so sure I'm happy it saved the life of that prick that caused me to cut off my own hand," Merle growled, and Patricia was left up in the air as to whether he was pissed that his meds had saved T-Dog from succumbing painfully to infection or if he was in high spirits from managing to get his dick into a conversation with a woman. "An' just for the record, those pills were leftovers. I got rid of my affliction before the biters came a callin'."

Patricia giggled, quickly covering her mouth and trying to hold it in. "That's good to know."

"You best be makin' sure everyone knows that bit of truth," he warned, but she could plainly see his eyes were sparkling with fine humour now. "I should slap that boy silly for tellin' ya'll what that was for."

"There a reason why everyone needs to know you're free of sexually transmitted diseases, Merle?"

He stopped the chair from swinging, leaned forward with his elbows braced against his knees and then slowly turned his head to stare at her.

"It took the world goin' to shit for my baby brother to get his ass into gear and find himself a woman. I ain't lettin' the same circumstance of fate deprive me of the same." He winked and then, as Patricia sucked in a breath to process what he might be implying, he launched himself to his feet and was gone.

That unnerving feeling of something being off in the world was now completely forgotten.

* * *

"Carol? It's Lori. You wanna talk about it?" Lori tried the door handle and frowned when she found it jammed. Trying to shove the door a little, she quickly realised Carol had shoved a chair under the knob and her lips twitched. She had a funny feeling Daryl was going to be in for it tonight if she didn't get to run a bit of interference first. "Honey? You need to open the door and talk about this. I promise I know exactly how you're feelin'." And she did, Lori realised. That fear of watching your man as he left your side to enter into a dangerous world—she'd been living with it for at least fifteen years now, ever since Rick was first given a gun and put in charge of keeping the town under control and the people safe. Walkers just exacerbated the original fear, but it had always been there at some level or another. It never left, it never allowed her to relax and breathe a deep sigh that everything was going to be okay, because as soon as she did that he'd be out there again, and these days he didn't even have to leave her side for him to find danger. Death and horror sought them out without them even having to move.

She hadn't heard Carol's silent steps as she'd walked to the door, but un-wedging the chair made some noise and Lori was ready for it when the door swung open and she was allowed to see Carol's tear-ravaged face.

"Oh, Carol." She enveloped the woman in her arms and squeezed her tight.

"I'm just being stupid," Carol said, pulling away and wiping her wet face. "This place they found, we have to try and take it. It's too perfect not to."

Lori pulled her over to the bed and together they sat on the edge, the brunette holding Carol close with an arm slung around her shoulders. They sat together in silence, heads together as Carol slowly started to breathe in a more regular pattern, a calmer pace, and Lori started telling her what it was like to be an officer's wife, what it was like to leave your husband in a hospital bed, knowing he was fighting to come back to them right up to the moment that walkers took to the streets and attacked everything she knew.

"I'm always scared," Lori revealed, the pain of the truth pushed down so deep by now that it was barely noticeable to others. "I'm always wonderin' if this is the day he won't come back. When we first met Daryl at the quarry, I'd never have picked him as the type to drop everything to keep a woman safe. I thought he'd be more like Ed, but I'm so happy to be proven wrong. He's doing everything he can to keep you safe, to provide a good life for you an' the baby."

"I know." Carol took a deep, shuddering breath, her body shaking against Lori's. "I'm still tryin' to blank out these images of dying—mostly it's me." Lori watched helplessly as Carol dissolved into tears once again and she rushed to hug her tight. "What if I don't make it and I leave Sophia and a baby behind? What hope does Daryl have then? What about any of you? God, this is just so…I don't know what to do?" The calmness of a moment before evaporated into thin air, Carol's breaths becoming raspy and spasmodic as she tried to force herself to not panic. Lori could see it was already too late.

"Sssshhhh," she soothed, her hand sweeping large, hypnotising circles on her back. "You know Merle's already picked out a name for this baby. I think you'll agree it's a good one."

It did the trick, Carol pulling away with a horrified expression twisting her face. "Oh my God, there's no way I'm letting Merle name my baby. I don't think I can even let Daryl. He'd pick something crazy like…like…Asskicker or something."

Lori laughed and the bed jiggled beneath them. "You are so close an' you don't even know," she revealed with a wink. "Merle suggested Badger. Badger As-salaam Dixon. Bad Ass for short."

Carol was totally still, not moving or uttering a sound for several minutes, her gaze unwavering with Lori's. Then she slumped, shaking her head and the hint of a smile graced her lips, transforming her face. "You cannot be serious."

Lori's head jerked up and down, her grin wide. "You shoulda heard some of the names Shane suggested when I was expectin' Carl. Badger's pretty good compared to something like Peabody."

"He didn't." Carol choked on a laugh.

"Oh, he did. Rick was almost with him when he suggested Ulysses." She joined Carol in a giggle. "These are Dixon boys," Lori reminded her with a gentle shove with her shoulder. "Daryl might really love the name Badger."

"Over my dead body."

It was entirely inappropriate, considering Carol's fears of exactly that, but Lori snorted. "We just better make sure that don't happen or this poor child is in for a life of hell raisin' thanks to its daddy and uncle Merle."

The atmosphere duly lightened, Carol stood, grasping Lori in a fierce hug before letting her go just as abruptly. "Thank you. I feel so much better now."

They sat there, side by side, quietly thinking over the dangers that awaited them outside the house, at the compound, in just trying to live through every day. It was stressful, but Lori knew it was survivable. She'd been doing it for years, and she'd done it when she'd thought Rick was gone for good. The pain had been excruciating, the fear almost insurmountable, but with Shane, with friends, she'd gotten through it, and should the worst happen again, she knew Carol would too.

"You wanna go see what the kids are up to?" There wasn't a whole lot for kids to do when they were on the run for their lives every other day, but Lori at least had learned that they needed to be kept an eye on to keep them out of trouble. Between the pair of them, Carl and Sophia had shot themselves into more trouble than the rest of the group combined.

"Knowing those two, they'll be schemin' up something they shouldn't," Carol joked, and together they the room, intent on hunting their offspring down.

* * *

"Has anyone seen Beth?" Maggie stood in the doorway, hands on her hips and watched everyone shake their heads as they sat relaxing around the main room before settling down for the night.

Shane walked in through the back, stopping as a room full of eyes turned to him.

"You seen Beth?" Maggie repeated, starting to worry when he replied that he hadn't.

"You checked inside?" he asked, having his own suspicion of where she could be. "I'll go take a look outside. Maybe she went to check on the chickens or the garden or something."

"Thanks, Shane."

"No worries." He wasn't sure why he'd taken it upon himself to keep an eye on Beth. Something about her behaviour the other night had worried him and when he observed everyone in the group, Beth seemed to stand too often alone. She didn't talk much, didn't draw attention to herself, and he'd noticed one time too many that she appeared to become almost invisible. Whether it was by choice or accident, he didn't know, but he didn't think disappearing could be a good thing.

He went first to the place by the house where he'd found her before, a frown settling on his face when she wasn't there. He was starting to worry now. It was dark, Rick was guarding the front of the house while Merle was out back and neither of them had seen her. He quickened his pace as he started checking out all the little shadowed nooks around the place she might have gone for a bit of privacy and his heart started to race the more of them he found empty. He was really starting to hope Maggie had found her in the house because if she was missing, they couldn't do anything about searching for her until the sun came up.

The last place was the hen house, and she wasn't there either. Shane hadn't felt so frantic since the day Carl had been shot, and that had been one seriously draining day. He was about to run back to the house to see if her sister had found her when he noticed something odd sticking out from behind a tree just beyond the chicken coop. As he neared it he realised it was her shoes, and as he broke into a run and rounded the tree, his knife in his hand, there she was, slouched uncomfortably against the tree.

He dropped to his knees, straight away going to the pulse in her neck and nearly collapsed with relief as it jumped against his fingers.

"Christ, Beth. You scared the livin' shit outta me."

She jerked awake, startled by the hissed words so close to her ear. He quickly covered her mouth to prevent a scream, but her eyes understood immediately the lack of threat and she relaxed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, blue eyes remorseful. "I musta fallen asleep."

"I ought to tan your hide," he chuckled, grabbing her hand and yanking her up with him as he stood. She stumbled against him, knocking him back a step before he steadied them. A zapping, electric shock jolted through him when her hands settled against his pecs and he sucked in an amazed breath.

"I'm so sorry," she said again, the apology falling to the side as his brain tried to catch up to the feel of this girl in his arms. He was dazed, letting his grip on her arms go slowly, but quickly replacing it on her hips.

"It's nothin'. Just next time tell people where you're goin' and try not to prop yourself up like walker bait." His throat felt tight and his voice was coming out all wrong, like it was sandpapered down to its roughest, most raw natural state. He wanted to kiss her—the impulse was so strong he felt staggered. He couldn't, though. Getting involved with Beth would stir up a whole world of trouble that none of them were ready to deal with, let alone Shane himself, and yet he couldn't move. Couldn't loosen the grip he had on her hips, couldn't stop himself from pulling her closer, but as a sound from the house broke through the night and sanity was squeezing back in, she took the decision out of his hands and stepped forward, placing her sweet, soft lips against his.

* * *

AN…I already replied to a couple of reviews but thought I'd answer the rest here for now.

**Lori:** I can't tell you how very much you made my day. It is a tremendous compliment to say an Aussie girl writes a good Merle. Thank you!

**HGRHfan35: **THANK YOU! When I wrote that chapter I was giggling all the way through. Not a huge response on the humour of it so I was feeling seriously discouraged. Thank you for finding it amusing! The condition of the animals etc. will come out in due time ;)

**Criminy Jickets: **Sadly, this story will have to end sometime. I know, it will be heartbreaking, LOL, but it simply can't go on forever. With luck I'll have other fics you like as much so the depravation won't be so severe! And, here's the next chapter ;)

**Itsi3: **;) Thanks for reading!

**Axelrocks: **Firstly, I love you for finding my attempt at humour actually funny, LOL. I was losing hope that anyone did! I think Michonne is nasty, or cruel, LOL. I like the idea of Merle calming the hell down and having actual friends. He had the potential…I think. I give full credit for Badger to ImOrca. It's really starting to grow on me!

**Hiatus80: **You're starting from scratch so you won't see this for ages, but, it's great to have you along for the ride!


	39. Chapter 39

**AN: **I always feel really nervous posting chapters that haven't had a look over by another set of eyes, especially when there is smut involved, and yes, folks, there is more smut. *sigh* I didn't plan for it, but it's there anyway.

**Jessie: **I'm trying! It's just a little slow going at the moment!

**Guest: **Daryl is always trying his best and if you love the smut, then here's some more, LOL.

**Chilli: **Thank you! Hope this one catches your fancy, as well!

**Tammy: **I understand not commenting because of the urge to just read, read, read! I appreciate you letting me know you are enjoying, and I'm glad I could bring Sophia along for the ride!

**Lori: **I am thrilled! Not quite sure how Merle and Patricia are going to go, but there you have it ;)

As to all the other reviews, I'm really going to try to reply to them today, fingers crossed. There was a bit of a flurry of reviews (do you know how grateful I am for that? Thanks, especially Hiatus80!) You all can't possibly know how much it boosts us up to keep on going. Oh, and if anyone has PMed me lately and I haven't replied, I'm not ignoring you! I have 5 kids at home right now for school holidays, trying to complete too many test knits as well as write. I kind of think I bit off more than I can chew!

Part Thirty-Nine

After tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, Shane gave up. Moonlight crept through the curtains of the living room, bouncing arrogantly off his face, and no matter which side he rolled onto, he just couldn't seem to escape it. He felt like he was being chased down, left trapped in the middle of a spotlight, and if he looked around, everyone would be staring at him with accusation and anger reflected in their eyes. Judgement. Even though none of them knew a damn thing about what had happened when he went looking for Beth.

Beth Greene. Shit. That girl was young, timid, scared of the fucking world and she was out there kissing him behind a tree while her big sister was running around frantically looking for her ass. And what was he doing? Bounding in like a damn superhero determined to find the damsel in distress. Well, he'd found her all right, and now he was even more fucked up in the head than he had been all along.

How was he supposed to sleep when he still had Beth's taste lingering on his lips? How was he meant to close his eyes when he had no hope of shutting out how beautiful she was in the moonlight, how she tasted warm and sweet and innocent and all those things he wasn't supposed to want? How her hair shone silver in the right light and felt like silk slipping between his fingers. He'd been fucking Andrea until recently, for Christ's sake. And Lori before her. He had no _right _to even entertain an impure thought about that little girl, let alone seek her out just to talk. Her daddy would string him up by his balls if he ever caught wind of that kiss—as if Hershel even needed an excuse. The old man had wanted to separate him from his bits ever since the barn incident, and even though Shane still thought that episode was straight out of the book on crazytown, he couldn't fault Hershel's motivation.

He was too old for her. He'd lived a world of experiences that were beyond her. Hell, she'd been the kind of girl he'd pursued shamelessly until she'd open her legs wide for him all the way through high school. When it came to women he wasn't the kind to care about anything but the pleasure he could get from them. He'd thought he'd loved Lori, had welcomed the idea of a baby with her with some half-formed thought it would mean she'd turn her back on Rick and really be his. That they'd be a family. Even before she'd lost it she'd made it plain she wasn't ever going to leave Rick, and Shane had been forced to accept it or lose his damn mind. Lose his best friend. He'd chosen to accept it, though he still suffered from the loss of that child, and he'd moved on with Andrea. She weren't half bad, he could admit to himself with a sleepy, cocky grin. She knew how to give without expecting something stupid back, without expecting a wedding ring on her finger. She knew how to play around, have some fun and move on. That's what he'd made his life all about and he wasn't inclined to change it now.

Only, Beth made him not so sure. Beth made him second guess the way he'd lived—the way he's living now—and she made him think of options and emotions he'd never thought he'd want or feel. She made him consider _more _and what it could mean to actually have it.

A quick glance around the floor of the living room showed that he was the only stupid asshole not sleeping. He'd be waking up on an important day—a pivotal day for their group—and if he didn't get some shuteye soon, he could be the reason behind it turning into a dismal, disaster of a day. Shutting Beth out of his mind could mean the difference between life and death for the group. He didn't have time for this shit, trying to work out whether he was up for a relationship with that little girl—if her daddy was willing. Trying to work out if he wanted more from her than that sweet little kiss that had already stole his breath clean away.

The room around him was pretty light, considering. It must be a full moon outside, he reasoned, seeing without effort a sleeping Glenn, curled into a cute ball in his sleeping bag with a giddy smile on his face. Shane chuckled to himself. That boy had been all over Maggie since the minute he'd met her, and everyone in the group knew those two screwed like rabbits, but Hershel even kept his twenty-two year old daughter secured in a room with Patricia and the other girls when he couldn't keep her under his evil eye at night, leaving Glenn to deal with his blue balls all on his lonesome. If a cheery, affable kid like Glenn still got the chilled treatment from Daddy Greene, what the hell hope would he ever have with Beth?

Not even a snowball's chance in Hell, he figured, and chuckled humourlessly. He half sat up and pounded his lumpy pillow a few times before flopping back and trying to give the whole sleeping thing another try. They were leaving for the compound in the morning and he needed to have his head in the game—the survival game, not the 'chasing skirt' game, though now the thought of Beth in a cute little cheerleader's uniform made his dick uncomfortably hard. He felt like weeping.

"Go the fuck to sleep before I smash your face in with my stump," Merle grumbled groggily, his voice weary from being broken out of his slumber.

"Fuck you, redneck," Shane tossed back, amused that Merle was even awake. Man usually slept like the dead and snored like a bulldozer.

"Don't tempt me, fucker. It's been a while." Merle shuffled around on his blankets and within seconds Shane heard the steady breathing and knew Merle's little foray out of dreamland was at an end.

"Son, you need to get some sleep before you set off in the mornin'," Hershel said as he dragged his weary old body from the comfy couch he'd snagged days ago. "I'm relievin' Rick from watch. Why don't you climb on up here and try an' get some sleep before you're no good to anyone."

Shane blinked at Hershel's uncharacteristic generosity toward him. He nodded gratefully, grabbing up his own pillow so he didn't end up with old man hair in his returning locks.

"Thanks, Hershel. That's real generous of you."

Hershel ducked his head, accepting Shane's words. "You boys are puttin' your lives on the line for us tomorrow. You need to be at your best." He left it at that, making his way around the sleeping figures on the floor to go and relieve Rick.

Shane wrestled with the covers on the couch and stared at the ceiling, taken aback by the softness in his communication with Hershel. The old man had barely given him the time of day since they'd had to evacuate the farm and he couldn't help feel relieved that the ice that had existed between them seemed to be thawing a little bit. Maybe, in time, there'd be hope if he decided he felt anything for Beth. Maybe, sometime, that kiss could happen again.

Emotional exhaustion descended on him finally and Shane succumbed to the pull of sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Andrea came running out the back of the house, her hair standing on end and her shirt only half tucked in. Daryl raised a brow.

"I am so sorry," Andrea gushed. "I totally overslept."

Daryl just passed her by with a lazy wave of his hand and trudged inside to his room with Carol. He was dead on his feet, his boots dragging along the floor and he almost collapsed against the door and fell asleep standing up. He wasn't expecting Carol to still be up, but especially wasn't prepared for her to swing the door open and catch the full brunt of his body falling on her. His muscles were too lax to stop the fall, but once they'd made it to the floor, he lifted a boot and shoved the door shut and then buried his face in her shoulder.

Carol gasped repeatedly for breath and his sleep befuddled brain pushed him into thinking he might be crushing her—and that was _if _she'd managed to regain the breath he'd knocked out of her when she'd opened the door and landed hard on the floor. He tipped his body to the side, dragging her with him, and happily rested his head on the floor. He didn't have a conscious thought again until he felt the cool air on his flesh and a stirring in his groin. When he was able to force his eyes open, he found her nuzzling his neck, pressing wet kisses to his throat as her warm hands delved beneath his shirt to trace the contours of his chest.

"Hmmm, whatcha doin'?" he growled lazily, letting his lids fall closed again so he could concentrate on how she felt in his arms.

"Nothin'…just…you're beautiful," she whispered hesitantly right below his ear and his eyes shot open again in surprise.

"Am not," he denied hotly, though it didn't come out as strong as he'd have liked with his voice being almost too tired to work.

"You are," Carol refuted gently, her hands clutching him around his waist and her fingers massaging into his sides. "You're ruggedly handsome, you push yourself into the ground, you're always alert an' half the time you wear more dirt on your face than you do on your boots. I think you're beautiful. An' a little bit sexy."

Daryl froze, letting his mind process what he was hearing. It was a struggle, trying to push his need for rest beyond his need to really understand how she felt. He'd half expected an 'I love you' to be tacked on their somewhere, and he wasn't going to deny to himself that it hurt a little that he hadn't heard those words from her at all. Shit, she had his seed coming to life inside her womb, she'd had his hands and mouth on her, had his heart in her hands, and not once she'd said the words. If she could get all flowery and say shit like he was beautiful, then sure as shit if she felt love for him she'd have no trouble saying it.

"I'm too tired to worry 'bout bein' sexy." He shoved himself unsteadily to his feet, forcefully removing himself from the tangle of her arms as he did so. He toed off his boots and then flopped face first onto the bed, suddenly not giving a shit about how she might or might not feel about him. It was enough he was clearing out that place so they have a home, so he could give her and her kids a home, somewhere to flourish and survive. Right now it was all he'd let himself think about. He didn't have the energy to worry about whether emotions as strong as love were part of the mix, and he certainly didn't have it to waste away when he found out it wasn't.

"I wasn't askin' you to be," Carol said quietly as she made her own way to the bed and crawled in tentatively beside him, her fingers straight away sweeping at the hair in his face. He swatted it away like it was a fly, keeping his eyes closed in case he'd see some kind of expression in her eyes that might make him hurt.

"Leave me be, woman. Need to get some sleep," he grumbled, at least grateful that there was no lie about how exhaustion seeped from his every action.

The silence was deafening and yet he shut it out, his body shutting down limb by limb, muscle by muscle, but he wasn't so numb that he missed the soft brush of her lips against his and her fingers sweeping across the bristle on his chin.

"I wasn't askin' for you to be anythin' but you," she whispered against his lips and he didn't have to open his eyes to know he'd hurt her. "I just wanted to be close to you."

She was about to turn away when his arm shot out and caught her, dragging her in close so he could rest his head on her chest and feel her legs tangle with his.

"This close enough?" His mouth was barely functional but he smiled when she kissed him again, his lids so heavy he wasn't opening them for anything. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered her warm hand sneaking up inside the back of his shirt, her fingers painting invisible patterns into his skin. He felt his body jerk with something that sounded like half a snore and then he was pretty sure he was out like a light, but his consciousness still not quite surrendered.

"You be safe tomorrow," he heard her order from somewhere too far away to respond, though he could hear the wobble in her voice and feared an onslaught of tears. The crack of emotion and fear that left her sounding weak and drained. "I love you too much to lose you now."

Whatever last remnant of tension existed from his earlier suspicions of how she felt about him evaporated into thin air. He was too far gone to show her the feeling was mutual right now, but maybe he'd wake early enough to leave her with no doubts he was on the same page as her. Finally, his world inside and out of his head fell dark and he welcomed the soothing, recuperative powers of sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

Lori woke early. The sky was barely light when she knew she couldn't sleep any longer. Rick snored softly beside her and Lori indulged herself with watching him for a bit. He'd been pushing himself so hard, taking the responsibility of the group's safety to heart, and she'd be lying if she didn't admit she was so proud of him she sometimes felt like she'd burst.

He'd come in last night while she'd been struggling to go to sleep. The weariness of his day sat in deep grooves around his mouth and eyes, and now that he was sleeping she was relieved to see the muscles of his face relaxed, the fatigue wiped away by hours of uninterrupted rest. All the men were pushing themselves hard, especially now that Daryl had found this new place. This religious commune. She'd heard about these freaky religious sects that secluded themselves away from the rest of the world, brainwashed their followers into believing such dangerous truths, manipulated them into thinking they could never leave. The men believed there were two hundred walkers trapped in the main hall and Lori shuddered for all the women and children that had probably been murdered by their leader before they'd had the chance to be bitten. The fool wouldn't have known that it didn't matter how you died—unless it was from a strike through the brain. Not that they'd even known that until Merle had shared the tidbit around the fire and Rick had hesitantly backed it up with knowledge he'd gained from Jenner himself. She could still remember how they'd all erupted at Rick for keeping such a secret, but some days, days when Lori was feeling a little more vulnerable than others, when she was struggling to remember the good days before all of this began, she was glad he'd made that choice. Knowing they were all going to turn at some point made her feel sick.

Leaving Rick to get as much sleep as he needed, Lori quietly slipped from the bed and dressed. She'd start breakfast, pack them up some food to take with them. There was no guessing how long they'd be stuck at that place. From what she could see, they still hadn't thought up a fool proof plan to rid the hall of walkers, and until they found the road that led into the compound, they had no way of removing the corpses, either.

Patricia was already at work in the kitchen. Lori smiled at her as she entered, going straight to the bowl of eggs that Patricia had already gathered. Beth wandered in as she'd started cracking them open and gathering them into a bowl to whisk. She was thinking omelettes this morning, and feeling sad at the loss of cheese from her life.

She was gathering onions and other treasures from the garden when Maggie came to a stop behind her, quickly joining her by half-heartedly picking at some herbs. The younger brunette had a frown on her face and Lori stopped what she was doing to really look at her.

"Maggie, is somethin' wrong?"

She denied it, but when the frown deepened and the younger woman refused to meet her eye, Lori knew there was most definitely something bothering her. She was about to press her on it when suddenly the words just came tumbling out on their own, Maggie not looking the least bit contrite afterwards.

"It's just, I should be goin' with the others. They need all the help they can get to clear that place out. I should be pulling my weight there, not stuck here doing nothing."

Lori tried to understand her, but what she saw above all was Maggie's frustration at being left behind to look after the less able in the group instead of being involved in the excitement of killing more walkers than they'd ever even seen in one place. It irritated her. The men, her husband, Daryl, Shane, Merle and even Andrea—they would be risking their lives for those left behind in this farm house, and the last thing any of them needed was for the men to be concerned that they were leaving them weak and vulnerable.

"This isn't about proving who has the biggest muscles or who can achieve the biggest body count," she reprimanded harshly and her anger simmered just below the surface as Maggie looked up sharply. "They are riskin' their lives so they can find a better place for us all to live. A safer place. You think if any one of them could choose they'd leave us here on our own?" Lori stood, her basket in her hands as she looked down at Maggie, the girl looking stunned. "Your place is here, protecting your father and your sister in case another herd comes through. I know we're women, and I guess you have to do what you have to do, but if you go there and we only have two kids, Carol, your dad and Beth and Patricia to guard this place and get everyone out, how many of us do you think will make it?"

She didn't wait to hear Maggie's sharp tongue try to justify herself. She'd been on the receiving end once before when the younger girl had felt threatened by her, and she wouldn't be again. Stomping back into the kitchen, Lori spied a blurry-eyed Rick stumble through the doorway, his hair appearing like something had scared it into shooting out in waves in all directions, his eyeballs still bloodshot from lack of sleep and his shirt twisted sideways. She went straight to him, forgetting the basket of produce on her hip, and tugged his face down for a kiss.

"'Mornin' , Gorgeous," she whispered huskily into his ear and he squeezed her tight. She closed her eyes as she kissed the hollow of his neck, smelling the musk of him and smiling happily as he hung on to her. This was what they were fighting for, and this was why she was going to make sure—if Maggie was with them or not—that they all stayed safe. She wasn't planning on losing Rick ever again.

"Ewwwww, get a room."

Carl and Sophia erupted into the room with a burst of giggles before running back out again.

"You two go wash up for breakfast," Lori called out after them, snickering as Rick planted another, quick kiss on her lips.

"Why don't we skip breakfast and go get that room your son suggested," Rick said, his hand moving lower down over her ass.

"My son?" Lori chuckled at that. She'd just been caught out by her own flesh and blood but she couldn't deny how much of a temptation the idea was. "How 'bout we eat first and maybe before you go, we can go see if the lock on that door works?"

"Sounds like a great idea," Rick agreed. "I'm starvin'."

"Well off you go then so us girls can work our magic." Lori pushed him out of the kitchen, catching Patricia's eye as she brought her bounty to the counter and started preparing it for breakfast. The other woman had a grin curving her lips and a twinkle of amusement in her gaze. And Lori, well, she just felt like, for the first time in a really long time, that everything was all right in her world.

XXXXXXXXXX

Carol never remembered her dreams. Maybe once, every five years or so, a particularly violent nightmare would rip her brutally from her sleep with images so terrifying that she could never rid them from her brain for years to come. But other times, she never remembered a thing. When Sophia had been bit and then gone missing, however, she'd woken up almost every night with a blood curdling vision of her daughter as a walker. The return of her baby girl, healed and still alive, did not alter the plague of these nightmares, the stark and horrifying image burned forever into her brain cells. Carol hated it, hated that she was victim to this fear, but lately those dreams were changing. No longer was it Sophia's face—cloudy eyes, decaying flesh and snapping teeth—that filled her sleep with horrifying possibilities. Now it was a baby. Her helpless newborn, delivered dead but still fighting and squirming fiercely to fulfil its purpose, to consume life. Of someone having to put her baby down while she screamed until her throat was raw. While Daryl stood aside, emotionally broken and refusing to look at her.

She was being shaken so aggressively that her head whipped back and forth on her shoulders. Her eyes snapped open as reality rushed in like a bitter, icy wind and Carol blinked rapidly, trying desperately hard to get those images to blur badly enough that she couldn't see it anymore. Her breath hitched on a sob; the shaking stopped and the pressure on her upper arms abruptly released. Barely able to breathe with the terror lingering in her veins, Carol reacted instinctively when Daryl crushed her against his chest. She crawled into his space, her arms and legs clinging to him so tight she didn't ever think she could let him go.

"Sssshhhh," he soothed, his hand rubbing soothing strokes down her spine and little by little she calmed until she was sniffling just a little against his shoulder. That nightmare had been the worst one yet, and the pain radiated from her chest out to her very fingertips. How was she going to hold this inside when he left, when it was just her and Sophia waiting for him to come back?

Gradually her breathing slowed and Daryl gently returned her to the bed, her head resting against her pillow. He was lying on his side, staring at her, and Carol felt a blush steal to her cheeks.

"I'm afraid."

It was simplistic. She was so afraid that a subtle chill had developed around her heart and it had squeezed every little bit of warmth from her body. Last night, when he'd come in from watch, all she'd wanted to do was curl up in his arms and create a memory that would never leave her, even if this mission at the compound meant that he would.

She'd never seen him so tired before, though she shouldn't have been surprised. She'd seen all the men in the group push themselves beyond reasonable limits and she worried that sometime soon one or all of them would crash so thoroughly they wouldn't easily recover. That's why she'd let him go, let him sleep, without pushing for something from him she could cling to for the rest of her life. She had no right to expect any more from him that he'd already given her. God, she had his unborn child to cling to if nothing else, and thinking in such a morbid fashion was tempting fate as it was.

"You ain't got no need to be afraid. We ain't gonna be stupid. We'll do this and come back for ya'll. I promise."

She nodded through a watery smile, barely making out his features as she struggled to keep from crying. She felt his lips on hers before she even saw him move. His kiss was tentative, like he wasn't quite so sure of them that he could initiate this whenever he wanted to unless she somehow signalled her approval first. She didn't think he could misinterpret the way she wound her fingers in his hair, holding him close and opening her mouth to let him in. She moaned as his tongue cautiously explored her mouth, his body twisting against hers until he lay above her, his pelvis pushing into the open V of her legs. She instinctively rocked until she had him in the right spot, her legs clamping tight around his hips.

He sucked hard on her bottom lip then gently released it, nipping hungrily at the skin below her jaw. He shuddered powerfully against her, his forehead smacking into her shoulder as he took several deep breaths. He didn't move, stayed in stasis long enough for Carol to start wondering what it was she'd done wrong, and just as she was about to beg him to tell her what she did, he pushed himself up and away from her, the evidence of his continued desire obvious as he kneeled on the bed, his shaking hands braced against his thighs.

"What we're doin' today…it's a big risk." He stared at the patch of bedding between his knees as Carol slowly sat up and slid her hands over to cover his. Finally he raised his head and seared her with a hot look. "It's dangerous. Leavin' you here is dangerous, too. You ain't the only one that's scared, but I gotta do this for you. For us and this baby. For Sophia and Merle and all the others." He stared intently into her eyes and Carol could feel the level of his concern, the depth of his feeling for her and she felt her heart pick up its pace as her blood rushed through her veins.

"I don't want to lose you." Her throat ached as a lump of tears surged and settled there, and her eyes stung. This shouldn't be so hard. She'd told him she was afraid, she'd laid everything out to him except her heart and here he was risking his life for her—again. What more proof did she need how he felt for her, and even if it didn't go as far and deep as her feelings ran, it didn't matter. She couldn't let him go out there, risking everything for her and his child without him knowing exactly where she stood.

"You won't. I got too much to come back for."

He kissed her before she could get any other words out, stealing her breath, stealing her sanity and giving her so much hope in place of it. She took his hand and directed it to rest against her stomach. His palm felt hot through her shirt, passing through her body and settling into a core of heat down low in her belly. He pulled his hand away and Carol gasped in disappointment, but in one, swift move he dragged her shirt up her torso and tossed it carelessly to the side, pushing her back on the bed and bending across her so that his lips brushed across her flesh, his kisses scattered beneath her bellybutton. Tears welled in her eyes at how deeply she loved this man, wanting nothing more for him to know it, for him to _believe _in it and her to the point where it gave him strength and direction.

"Daryl, you have everything to come back for."

His eyes were red when he sat back up, leaving his fingers ticking against her bare stomach.

"'Cept for Merle, I ain't never had anythin' much to hope for before," he revealed and her heart ached for how much pain he'd had in his life. "Never really wanted anythin'."

"And now?" She held her breath, afraid that she might be pushing him beyond a point he could safely reach without falling over the edge.

"Now—" His chest heaved with the effort to take in air, his eyes were downcast and his hand shook but stayed in its place against her, his thumb stroking a warm, soothing rhythm just above her pelvic bone. "I want everythin' this world can give me. You, our baby, our family. I ain't lettin' anything take this away from me."

"Daryl." Tears shimmered in her eyes. She reached for him and he fell on her like a man starving for any ounce of affection he could get, so she gave him it all. She consumed his lips, ravenous to taste him. Her hands stripped him naked then stroked every sensory point she could find, first with her fingertips and then with her lips. Her tongue left wet trails across his chest and he shivered as the cool air chilled the dampness, then shuddered as her fingers pinched his nipples and the fire between them built up into an inferno. In a flurry of movement he pressed against her entrance and slipped inside her, his rigid length surging and then exploring depths no one had ever reached before. Carol's back arched as his mouth latched around a nipple and her legs came up to clamp around his hips. He withdrew slowly, the sweet agony of his silky cock sliding against her walls squeezing a tortured cry of pleasure from her throat. He slammed back deep inside her and something new stirred to life, a new button was pushed and her eyes shot wide open in shock. He did it again and a moan was tossed with abandon into the air, Carol coaxing a repeat of this new rhythm with the subtle squeezing of her calves on his ass. He sucked hard on her nipple, his hand reaching for her other breast to cup it and then pinch the hard nub between his fingers, creating a sweet ecstasy Carol was barely able to stand. He kept bumping that spot inside her with every thrust, squeezing and biting at her breasts and a sheen of sweat broke out across her skin, prickling awareness stirring her into a frenzy. Her body began quivering uncontrollably as this new sensation steadily built, raw heat flowing out from her chest to her head to her womb and then to her toes. Sobs of pleasure burst from her lips as the climb toward the ultimate release escalated until finally it broke, small bursts of what felt like pure bliss catapulting along her blood stream. Every part of her was on fire, his thrusts stoking the flames until she was giddy from the rush of sensation and her fingers clawed at the bedding beneath her.

Daryl paused in disbelief at her reaction, and she brought his lips back to hers, consuming him with a hunger she'd never felt before. He allowed her to roll them so that she was above him, her hips immediately circling around a new tempo. The sensations inside her hadn't quite subsided yet, but the new position seemed to whip them back into life as the tip of his cock started rubbing once more against this mystery place she'd never known about. She was almost weeping by the time she came again, just in time for Daryl's hands to capture her face and drag her back to his lips, kissing away all the perceptions that she was going to fly away but keeping the buzz of desire alive as she whimpered and shook.

She was still gently rocking against his hips, not quite willing to let him slide out of her yet, wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as possible. She took his hand and lifted his knuckles to her lips, kissing each one separately until her breathing slowly came back under her control. He stayed silent, watching her carefully.

"When you come back," she said, panting quietly, "we have to do that again."

"Hell yeah, we do." He grinned and her heart melted.

She collapsed in exhaustion, her forehead falling to his sweat slickened chest, and she giggled. She couldn't ever remember being so thoroughly giddy with happiness in her entire life. If she didn't know she loved him before, she couldn't think of any other test to prove it. She flopped her full weight on him, her head on his shoulder, eyes drifting closed and her left hand softly tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" she asked sleepily, purring when his arms came around to hold her in her lazy position.

"Yeah," he answered, the husky sincerity of his tone almost soothing her into sleep. "Think I do."


End file.
